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BETH ANNE 
HERSELF 



THE PENN PUBLISHING 
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 
1915 


p 2 7 

•<^ 3 ? 


COPYRIGHT 

1915 by 

THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 





Beth Anne Herself 


JUL 20 1915 

© Cl. 4 4018 20 


To Little Irene , with much love 
and the hope that her old 
friend Beth Anne may prove 
as attractive between the book 
covers as she was in paper dress 









Introduction 


This is the story of Beth Anne, a rather 
wilful but wholly lovable little girl with a 
very strong taste for applause and a faculty 
for dramatic day-dreams. The introduction 
into her smoothly ordered life of Jinny, the 
little street girl whom she meets by chance 
on one of her escapades, calls for all of Beth 
Anne’s love and loyalty, and brings out both 
the best and worst in her character. Marjorie 
helps along with the poorer part of jealousy 
and suspicion, while Pietro is the cause of 
Beth Anne’s finding herself again, and dis- 
covering the “ grow straight ” rule, which 
works out so happily in the studio party and 
brings such satisfaction to those who love the 
sunny whole-souled Beth Anne. 

In the next story she applies the rule with 
her accustomed vigor and enthusiasm to the 
development of a family of pale and pampered 
5 


6 


INTRODUCTION 


children who have moved into the neighbor- 
hood, and by the time the long vacation comes 
each of the children has become what Beth 
Anne calls a “ Reallyite,” — a wholesome, out- 
of-door boy or girl, and Beth Anne herself 
has both gained and given much happiness. 


Contents 


I. 

Beth Anne Begins the Day 


ii 

II. 

Cousin Lucia’s Shopping . 


3 1 

III. 

Lost and Found 


57 

IV. 

The Night Before Christmas 


74 

V. 

A Happy Morning . 


88 

VI. 

Enter Jinny .... 


107 

VII. 

Another Rescue 


128 

VIII. 

The Christmas Party 


140 

IX. 

Jinny Decides .... 


i 55 

X. 

Plans and Projects . 


164 

XI. 

Beth Anne Paints a Portrait . 


i8 3 

XII. 

Jinny Goes to School 


201 

XIII. 

Beth Anne Has a Dream 


213 

XIV. 

Good-bye to Town . 


219 

XV. 

Gable End .... 


230 

XVI. 

The Beth Anne Relief Expedition 


240 

XVII. 

The Dramatic Club Criticizes 


255 

XVIII. 

Intermission .... 


272 

XIX. 

The Little Green Serpent Again 


280 

XX. 

An Open Breach 


290 

XXI. 

Pietro ..... 


3 01 

XXII. 

Adopting a Baby 


3*4 

XXIII. 

Repentance .... 


328 

XXIV. 

Beth Anne is Herself Again . 


338 


7 









% 









* 












Illustrations 


PAGE 


“I’ll Keep Them as Long as 
Last ” . 

“ Come Along With Me ” 


They’ll 

. . Frontispiece 




67 




u How Does It Look ? ” . 


189 


“ I Am Not An Indian ” . 

She Carried a Tray of Colored Ices 


247 

286 


Beth Anne Herself 



Beth Anne Herself 


CHAPTER I 

BETH ANNE BEGINS THE DAY 

“ Beth Anne ! Beth Anne 1 ” 

It was her mother calling from the foot of 
the stairs ; but Beth Anne was curled up fast 
asleep in her soft white bed with the shiny 
gold posts, and did not hear. So Mrs. Burton 
called again, in her fresh, clear voice : 

“ Beth Anne ! Beth Anne ! ” 

And then Beth Anne really did hear, and 
sat up, blinking and rubbing her eyes, as she 
called gaily back : 

“ Yes, Munner, I’m coming I I’m com- 
ing ! ” 

She tumbled out of bed and rushed for the 
tub, wondering why she was in such a hurry. 
Beth Anne usually did things first and then 


12 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


found out why she did them, for, as she said, 
things happened too fast to stop and think 
about them first, — you just had to hop or 
you’d miss them. Beth Anne hated to miss 
things. 

Before the water ran hot, she was enough 
awake to remember that it was the day before 
Christmas, and there were heaps of presents to 
be done up and sent off, and all the decora- 
tions, — holty, laurel and mistletoe, to be put 
up ; and last and best of all, David, her best 
beloved David, was coming for the whole holi- 
day vacation with them. 

She danced about waiting for the tub to 
fill, singing to a rather wobbly tune of her 
own making : 

u At five o’clock he will appear 
And he is ray cou-sin so dear. 

I’m sure I rather hope, you know, 

His train will not be blocked by snow ” 

“ Whew ! ” she broke off. “ That’s a per- 
fectly splendid poem. I’ll have to remember 
to sing it to him.” 


BEGINS THE jj a i 


*3 

With a delighted giggle at her own clever- 
ness she flew to the mirror and tried a war 
dance before it, and then with a swift return 
to the real business of the moment, she flitted 
back to the deepening tub. 

As she sped back to her room, a lovely odor 
floated up from below stairs to her puggy lit- 
tle nose, — an odor quite distinct from the good 
smell of breakfast that filtered up from the 
dining-room. 

“ Oh, ger-acious,” she whispered with thrills 
of delight as she sniffed. “ Isn’t it too dread- 
fully lovely for words ! ” 

It was a breath of something spicy, and yet 
like out-of-doors and it made her tingle with 
its suggestion of delights to come, for it was 
the very heart of the Yule-tide, — a great Nor- 
way spruce from the cool, dim woods of the 
north land. 

It had come home the afternoon before 
with the snow clinging to its closely bound 
branches, and Beth Anne had exulted in it, 
even tied up in common, stupid rope, for she 


i 4 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

knew by experience to what glories it would 
expand. She had gone to bed thinking of 
her mother's few words about its life, — how it 
had been growing straight up to the blue sky 
for so many summers and winters in those 
cool, dim woods, just for this one Christmas 
day : and how the birds had nested in it, and 
the winds had loved it. Beth Anne, tugging 
at the tangles in her bright curls, could see the 
great green tree, deep in the flowery grass, 
with the flutter of swift wings in its branches : 
and then again, with its wide arms full of 
sparkling snow, the live wind shaking out the 
crystal flakes in a diamond shower through 
the flashing sunshine. 

“I just love it, love it, love it!” she 
breathed, tying her ribbon with fingers that 
trembled with excitement, and forgetting for 
once to make faces in the glass at the golden 
tangles of her curly crop. “ Other trees kind 
of bend and kink and twist, but it grew right 
straight up into the bluest part of the air.” 
She stopped to pucker her brow at this. 


BEGINS THE DAT 


15 

“ Father says the air isn’t any bluer up 
there than it is down here, but it just seems 
as if it ought to be.” 

Her eyes went dreamily away to the patches 
of blue sky showing between her pink window 
curtains, and she drifted in a daze of wonder- 
ful day-dreams till the sound of a hammer 
striking on hollow wood brought her back 
with a jerk. 

“ He’s opening the big box of 1 specially ’ 
wreaths ! And I won’t see ! ” she wailed, 
breathless with haste again, as she struggled 
into her clothes pell-mell. 

She was dressed and on the stair before you 
could count a hundred — if you counted rather 
slowly. 

From the square landing she caught a 
glimpse of a huge red star, and coils of feathery 
lignum-vitse as her father wrenched off the 
lid of the flimsy big box. She stopped, forget- 
ful of everything but the splendid spectacle 
of Christmas trappings and garnishings that 
spread itself below her, where masses of green 


1 6 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


and piles of vivid red and tinseled stars shone 
in jumbled heaps on the dark wood floor. 

“ Oh, isn’t it gorgeoliferous ! ” she gasped. 

Her father looked up, pausing in his work. 

“ You’re late, Snippet,” he called. “ You’re 
missing things. Come on down and get busy.” 

She bobbed a hasty good-morning and 
found her feet again, fluttering down to his 
side with more gasps and sighs than words, 
until he lifted out the big star with the make- 
believe dewdrops on its green border. 

“ How lovely ! ” she cried rapturously. 
“ Won’t you please put it up right now, be- 
fore anything happens to it? It looks too 
good to last.” 

He shook his head, smiling. “ Not until 
after breakfast, miss. I’m much too frail for 
such heavy work before I feed.” 

They both laughed at this, for he was very 
tall and strong. 

“ Besides,” he went on, “ we said the greens 
were to be put up after breakfast, and we 
ought to stick to it.” 


BEGINS THE DAT 


1 7 

Beth Anne acquiesced mournfully. “ Even 
though I simply die with squirmy feelings,” 
she added hopelessly. 

“ Who’s talking of dying on this day of all 
days ? ” cried the clear voice that had sum- 
moned Beth Anne from her drowsy bed half 
an hour ago. Mrs. Burton, with her hands 
full of gay balls of cords and ribbons, came 
from the library into the hall. Her light 
hair was roughened into little wilful curls, 
and her cheeks were pink with the frost and 
fire-warmth and Beth Anne thought she had 
never seen her look lovelier. 

“ Oh, dearest-sweetest ! ” she cried, for- 
getting her dismal fears about her own 
untimely end. “ You’re beautifuller than 
ever to-day. I guess everybody’ll take you 
for the Christmas fairy to-morrow night at 
the party if you keep on looking as you do 
now.” 

Mrs. Burton laughed a tinkling crystal 
laugh, and, flinging the twine balls and pins 
on the table, caught Beth Anne’s hand in one 


1 8 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


of hers and her husband’s in the other, and 
led them in through the wide doors of the 
dining-room in an impromptu dance to the 
strains of “ Mess Call,” tooted out from an 
imaginary bugle in the hands of Mr. Burton. 
Beth Anne pranced with delight. 

“ You’re exceeding the speed limit, Snip- 
pet,” panted her father, pretending to be 
much exhausted. “ Slow down to ten miles 
an hour. Do, please, before I faint.” 

But Beth Anne dropped his hand and 
swooped to the pile of letters and parcels at 
her plate, running rapidly over each in turn. 

“ Here’s one from Bess Hammond,” she 
cried. “ And one from Helen, and a tiny one 
from Marjorie ; I know the writing,” and she 
began tearing the wrapper from a bulky en- 
velope. 

“ Hold hard, Snippet,” cautioned her fa- 
ther. “ No fair opening them till to-morrow, 
you know.” 

Beth Anne’s fingers trembled on the string, 
and she cast a rather rebellious look at her 


BEGINS THE DAT 


19 

mother, — it was so hard to give up when the 
alluring contents were almost revealed, but 
Mrs. Burton shook her head, and Beth Anne’s 
blue eyes clouded, for she knew there was no 
appeal, when the powers agreed, as they had 
such a habit of doing. 

“ I am going to keep all mine till to-morrow 
at breakfast when old man Dave is here. 
We’ll have a regular mail-fest, with all the 
mail that comes till then, won’t we?” said 
Mr. Burton, cheerfully ignoring the depress- 
ing silence that had suddenly enveloped his 
vivacious daughter. 

“ Nothing could hire me to open mine,” de- 
clared Mrs. Burton, pushing her large pile of 
tempting mail far out of her way, and begin- 
ning her breakfast. 

Beth Anne slowly brightened, until at last 
she beamed again. 

“ If we do that,” she said, happily devour- 
ing oatmeal in unrestricted gulps, “ it will seem 
as though we had lots and lots more, won’t it? 
First, the tree and the sitting-room presents, 


20 BETH HNNE HERSELF 


and then the mail, and then the realest pres- 
ents in the sitting-room again. Oh, gracious 
me ! I don’t know how I am going to wait 
till David gets here ! ” 

“ Try to last till five, at any rate, Snippet, 
for he can’t possibly be here before then,” said 
her father, breaking his egg carefully. 

“ I can live till then, Popsy,” she declared, 
solemnly. “ But if he didn’t come then, I 

believe I’d just frazzle out into Oh!” 

she broke out with a little cry of dismay as 
she saw large white flakes whirling past the 
window. “ It’s snowing now ! Shall we take 
the presents if it snows? And do you think 
David will be blocked?” 

Mrs. Burton clicked her contempt of the 
snow, puffing out her pretty lips in a way that 
Beth Anne felt to be conclusive. “ This will 
not amount to anything, chick. And unless 
it is a blizzard we shall certainly take every 
present as we planned. A whiff of snow is 
not going to keep us in at Christmas time, is 
it, Ted?” 


BEGINS THE DAT 


21 


“ Not if we have to call out a steam plow,” 
he replied, emphatically. “ I’ve got to take 
Mother Murray and Lucia and Maria to the 
station, after I leave you, and I suppose you 
have to spend an hour at the Henrys’, as you 
have promised Lucia, while Snip here plays 
with the Henry infants till I get back.” 

“ You see, chick, you are sure of getting out 
with those wonderful gifts, no matter what 
blows,” smiled her mother. “ David will be 
here soon after we get back, and everything 
will be as fine as a fiddle.” 

Beth Anne looked worried. “ If it snows 
very much perhaps I’d better stay home, so’s 
to be here when David comes, for if he came 
while we were out, he might not wait. 
And I’d rather miss everything than not 
have David here. Why, it wouldn’t seem 
like Christmas at all without David.” 

“ I fancy Car’line or Minnie might see that 
he got in, even if George and Jackson are not 
about,” laughed her father. “ Do you think 
it takes more than two husky women to open 


22 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


the door to a young peanut of David’s 
size? ” 

“ Don’t bother yourself about it, dearie. 
He won’t disappoint us, I am sure,” said Mrs. 
Burton, folding her napkin. “ But we haven’t 
time to waste. There are miles of laurel to 
put up, and I don’t know how many wreaths 
and stars to hang.” * 

“But first ’’said Beth Anne, myste- 

riously. “ Don’t you remember, Mother? ” 

Mrs. Burton caught the suggestion with a 
smile. “ You want me to tie your hair ribbon 
again, do you? Well, come along into the 
library. I can’t do it here, you know.” 

This was very clever, Beth Anne thought, 
for what they were really going to do was to 
wrap up her present to her father in such 
shape that he should not dream what it was 
until he had it all unwrapped. Beth Anne 
squeezed the soft hand as they took the fat 
Mexican basket out of the corner of the book- 
case. 

“Isn’t it adorable, Munner? But I don’t 


BEGINS THE DAT 


2 3 

know how in the world to fix it so that he 
won’t know right away when I hand it to 
him.” 

“ How about putting it into a hat-box, and 
sending George in from the hall with it, as 
though it came from some one outside? 
Uncle Frank is always late with his pres- 
ent ” 

“ The very thing ! ” interrupted Beth Anne, 
jumping up and down on the tips of her toes, 
and rubbing her hands hard together, as she 
always did when very much pleased or excited. 
“ He’ll never, never guess. Won’t he be sur- 
prised, though 1 ” 

Mrs. Burton laughed. “ He will be mighty 
glad to find the basket in place of a hat. 
You remember how he sent that pretty gray 
hat I bought him back to the store in short 
order. He can’t bear any one to give him 
any sort of head-gear, — even the Oriental cap 
Uncle Bob brought him never fitted him 
properly.” 

They tied the box up exulting in the 


24 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

thought of its reception on Christmas morn- 
ing, and then Beth Anne rushed up to the 
studio for another secret conclave, — this time 
in regard to her mother’s present, which she 
had felt quite able to manage by herself. 

A brass candlestick was so much easier to 
disguise than the chubby basket that she had 
felt quite equal to it, and entered trium- 
phantly, a sheaf of red tissue paper under one 
arm, and an old wire lamp shade under the 
other. 

“ I’m going to put the frame at the top and 
fix the paper all loose, so she’ll think it’s a 
lamp,” she announced, banging the door be- 
hind her. 

She felt her father must think her tremen- 
dously clever to have hit on so good a plan, 
but he only nodded his head, and went on 
polishing the candlestick she had spent so 
much time and love on. 

It was fascinating to watch the glitter grow, 
but Beth Anne wanted recognition of her 
merits. 


BEGINS THE DAT 


25 

“ Don’t you think it’s a splendid way to fool 
her ? ” she asked, unable to hold in for another 
second. 

“ Pretty good,” he replied briefly, still 
absorbed in the work. 

She stood first on one foot and then on the 
other, impatient for some final word. 

At last he said, casually, “ Don’t you think 
it might be sort of a come-down, — to get only 
a candlestick, when she was sure it was a 
lamp ? ” 

Beth Anne took a tumble from her high 
horse. 

“ Of course ! ” she cried in dismay. “ I 
never thought of that. She’d hate it, — so 
small and niminy-piminy looking after the 
big, fat lamp. Oh, dear ! How stupid of 
me!” 

She was silent, dolefully rubbing her puggy 
nose very hard in her perplexity, and sighing 
gustily over her failure to think of anything 
better than her original idea. 

Her father gave the final rub to the candle- 


26 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


stick, and looked up at her dejected face. 
“ Suppose,” he said, “ we put a weight at the 
bottom, and tie the frame half-way down, and 
then wrap it to look like that branching 
centerpiece she saw Cousin Jane buying last 
week. She’ll remember the centerpiece, and 
will be sure this is it, — till she opens it.” 

Beth Anne bubbled over with relief. 

“ And she didn’t think it was a bit pretty,” 
she cried. “ She almost said it was hideous, 
— only she was too polite. You’re terribly 
sweet to think of it, Popsy dear,” and she 
overwhelmed him with a tremendous hug that 
sent the candlestick reeling to the other side 
of the table. 

“ Help ! ” cried Mr. Burton, catching it be- 
fore it fell. “ Snippet, you are as devastating 
as a cyclone. Cut loose, and fetch the heavy 
paper-weight from the library, and some good 
stiff paper, — this tissue will do for the out- 
side.” 

She was back again in a second, and they 
had the parcel done up in no time, laughing 


BEGINS THE DAT 


27 

over the prospect of Mrs. Burton’s feelings 
when she received the supposed centerpiece. 

Then they were off down-stairs to put up 
the greens. And that was hard work, but so 
jolly ! Even when Mr. Burton hammered his 
finger and made a blood-blister he only 
laughed, and said that Christmas blisters 
didn’t hurt. 

They put festoons of laurel all about the 
rooms in the lower story, and then they went 
up-stairs and twined it along the railings in 
the upper halls. They hung red wreaths at 
every post, and there was a great glittering star 
over the portrait on the landing where the 
two flights met. On each shining rail of the 
lower stair they twisted the glossy lengths of 
green laurel, with big bunches of holly at 
slender newel posts. And in every window 
hung a round red wreath with its bow of 
lustrous satin ribbon. 

It took them a long time, even with George 
and Jackson to help, and when it was done 
they were glad to sit down and turn their at- 


28 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

tention to the presents which were to be tied 
up and labeled, ready for distribution in the 
afternoon. 

All the while her fingers were busy with 
gilt paper and bright ribbon Beth Anne was 
thinking of David, and how much she should 
have to tell him. She listened absently to 
the talk about the gifts, her head occasionally 
tossing as she thought of how much she had 
grown since last fall, and how much improved 
David must certainly find her. “ I was a 
mere child then,” she told herself, compassion- 
ating her immature past. “ I wore my hair 
bobbed, and hadn’t even begun French, — oh, 
I was a very little girl indeed. I guess David 
will find me more grown up than he thinks. 

“ Mother,” she said aloud, “ I am so afraid 
that he won’t get here to-day ; I wish Uncle 
Henry had let him come yesterday, before it 
had snowed again.” 

“ Still trembling for fear David will not be 
here, chick ? ” smiled her mother. 

“ What makes you feel that way, Snippet? 


BEGINS THE DAT 


29 

Is your goose-bone troubling you ? ” asked her 
father in mock anxiety. 

Beth Anne dropped her hands into her 
lap, and looked at him with an intense air. 

“ No, no, nothing is the matter with me,” 
she replied, tragically. “ I can’t just explain, 
but somehow I feel perfectly and absolutely 
sure that something dreadful is going to hap- 
pen.” 

“ Never you feel like that on the day before 
Christmas,” he reassured her. “ David is 
never side-tracked when he really wants to get 
anywhere, and there hasn’t been enough snow 
to delay any right minded train. It’s almost 
stopped snowing now. He’ll be on time, 
don’t fret.” 

Beth Anne was too much impressed by her 
own newly discovered powers of forecasting 
to accept this cheerful theory. “ All the 
same,” she said, nodding mysteriously, “ I 
don’t believe we’ll see David this afternoon.” 

She subsided into her own thoughts again, 
forgetful of the outside world, and picturing 


3 o BETH ANNE HERSELF 

all sorts of dismal obstacles which thrust them- 
selves into David's path, and enjoying the sen- 
sations that the various catastrophes gave her. 
Her hands fumbled with her work, and the 
parcel she was tying had scant attention. 

She was pulling the lop-eared bow into a 
semblance of trimness when the door-bell 
sounded, and George shuffled through the 
hall. 

They paused in their work to listen, for 
George, contrary to his custom, seemed to 
argue with the person outside. 

“ Who in the world ” began Mrs. Bur- 

ton. 

“ Some old pedler, I guess, coming to the 
front door," hazarded Beth Anne, coming out 
of her day-dreams. 

There was a little scuffling noise, and a 
laugh from the sober George ; and then the 
door flew wide, and in burst David, red 
cheeked and breathless, lugging a heavy suit- 


case. 


'CHAPTER II 
cousin lucia’s shopping 

“Hello!” cried Mr. Burton, jumping up. 
“ Where in the world did you drop from, old 
man ? ” 

“ David Pemberton ! ” gasped Mrs. Burton, 
dropping a ball of tinsel cord. 

Beth Anne made a wild dash for him, 
shrieking the baby name that always came 
first in moments of excitement. 

“ Debe ! Debe ! You lovely, angel boy, to 
come so soon ! ” 

Her mad embrace tumbled him backward 
into a chair already filled with red-ribboned 
packages. His suit-case fell from his grasp, 
and he struggled and sputtered, gasping out 
protests from the collar of his storm coat. 

Beth Anne squealed with delight at his 
plight, but helped pull him out from his try- 
3 1 


3 2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

ing position. And then they all hugged him 
at once and pelted him with a joyful chorus 
of questions. 

“ I didn’t wait for the train Dad told you 
I’d take,” he explained, as he pulled off his 
coat. “ I got up early and sneaked out in 
time for the seven-thirty. That’s how I got 
here so soon.” 

“ How did you get over from the Ter- 
minal ? ” asked his uncle, giving him a hand 
with the ulster. 

“ Walked,” said the boy, stoutly. 

“ Walked ! ” they all echoed, and Mr. Burton 
added, “ Why didn’t you take a car, old chap ? 
It’s a good three miles.” 

David grinned sheepishly. “ Did get on 
one,” he confessed. “ But it turned around 
after I’d gone two blocks ; so I hiked out for 
City Hall. I could see the tower. And 
when I got there, I knew the way.” 

“ Where did you have breakfast ? ” de- 
manded Mrs. Burton. 

“ Didn’t want any. Susie mightn’t have 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 33 

let me come if I’d stopped. Cook left yester- 
day, and she’s sort of grumpy. Father said 
something about a big storm out west, and it 
looked like a blizzard when I got awake, so I 
just came off easy and quiet,” he ended, 
lamely. 

“ But won’t they be worried, dear boy ? ” 
she asked. “ We oughtn’t to distress any one 
at Christmas time, you know.” 

David tried to look unconcerned. 

“ Oh, I guess they’ll know where I am,” he 
replied, squirming a bit, nevertheless, while 
Beth Anne began to feel really uneasy. 

Mr. Burton, pretending to be very severe, 
pointed an accusing finger at him. “ A-ha, 
so you’re a runaway,” he said in a deep, 
judicial tone. “You shall be shipped off at 
once, young man. Give him his presents, 
Carol, and turn him loose.” 

Beth Anne clutched David firmly, but Mrs. 
Burton only smiled reassuringly. “ I think 
you’d better ’phone to John, Ted. A letter 
could not reach him till to-morrow night, and 


34 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

I don’t want them to worry,” she said, com- 
fortably, as she rang for some belated break- 
fast for the traveler, who did not appear at 
all alarmed. 

He showed his white teeth in a wide grin. 
“ You better let me stay, Uncle Ted. I have 
a dandy present for you,” he said, stretching 
his stiff red fingers over the crackling fire. 

His uncle, pausing *in the doorway with 
the judicial frown still on his brow, pretended 
to consider. “ Well — if you’ll promise not to 
do it again this year,” he stipulated, and 
disappeared into the hall, chuckling. 

David shouted his promise eagerly. “ ’Cause, 
you see,” he explained to Beth Anne, “ there 
won’t be any more Christmases this year, any- 
way.” 

“ Of course not,” she agreed in great relief. 
“ I’m glad you promised, though, Debe. It 
makes me feel so awfully safe, you know.” 

The breakfast arriving at this point, they 
hovered about him, asking him all sorts of 
puestions, about his father’s plans for the new 


COUSIN LUCIA y S SHOPPING 35 

library, about Eldridge who was studying in 
Germany, about Susie the severe old house- 
keeper and everything else that pertained to 
Bell mere and the homestead. 

He did the best he could with the ques- 
tions, but was too excited to eat, and had 
soon finished, and, with Beth Anne's help, 
was dragging the suit-case up to his old room 
across the hall from Beth Anne's. 

There they shut the door, and sat down on 
the floor rejoicing, while he unpacked the 
presents he had brought with him, and Beth 
Anne was given the first look. 

There was a green leather tobacco pouch for 
Uncle Ted, and, next, a sparkling hat-pin, 
which Beth Anne adored on sight and de- 
clared looked just like her mother. The 
small pink tissue parcel he vainly tried to 
hide from her quick eyes. 

“ That's for me," she declared, promptly. 

“ How do you know ? " he demanded guilt- 
ily. “ It might be for Aunt Irene or the 
kids." 


36 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Oh, no,” she said, wisely. “ You would 
show me theirs.” 

“ Well then, — you know so much, — what 
is it?” 

“ Looks like hair ribbons,” she hazarded, 
bubbling in a superior fashion that David 
found hard to bear. 

“ No, you don’t,” he denied, reddening. 
“ I don’t like girly truck like that. It’s 
something — something — something for your 
chiffonier.” 

Beth Anne looked disgusted. “ I wish it 
weren’t, for I’ve every single thing I need, and 
there are hosts of other things I want like 
everything. Couldn’t you swap Mary’s or 
Elizabeth’s for mine? ” 

“ Hardly,” he said, diving into the pile 
and bringing out three flat packages all 
of a size. “Paints in all of ’em. Pink 
for Mary, blue for Elizabeth, and red for 
Irene.” 

He allowed her to open and gloat over the 
rows of fresh colors in the neat pans, with 


COUSIN LUCIA’S SHOPPING 37 

shining black handled brushes in the grooves 
in the center. 

Beth Anne was entranced. “They’ll just 
love them ! ” she cried, fervently. “ Aunt 
Irene never lets them have paints, ’cause they 
make so much mess, but if they’re a Christ- 
mas present, she’ll simply have to let them 
keep them. And they do love to slop about 
so ! ” she ended happily. 

“ Sure thing. I knew they’d like them,” 
he agreed, well content with her praise. 

“ What have you for Aunt Irene ? ” she 
asked, eagerly. 

He selected a long flat box and took off the 
lid. 

“ Oh, Debe, what a perfectly angelic frill ! ” 
she sighed, rocking ecstatically. “ If I were 
only grown up — but I suppose, by the time 
I’m big enough, nobody will wear lovely, 
flufflty frills. And if there’s anything I 
simply adore, it’s lace ! ” 

“ Thought you w T ere daffy on books,” he 
remarked. “ Got over that yet? ” 


38 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Of coarse not,” she disclaimed, indig- 
nantly. “ Books come first, and then lace. 
You like books best yourself, too, so don’t be 
biggity about them. Did you buy all your 
presents yourself? ” she asked, with one of 
her swift changes. 

“ Of course,” he said, importantly. “ Father 
won’t talk about Christmas, and Susie doesn’t 
know anything. She wanted me to get pencil 
cases for the kids, — dubby old things you get 
any time of year.” 

“ I guess she’s too sort of thin and dried up 
to know what real live people like for pres- 
ents,” agreed Beth Anne comfortably. 

She looked at him admiringly as he stowed 
the boxes in the emptied bag, glad that he 
could do things so successfully. Then she 
remembered her own purchases, and her curly 
head began to toss. 

“ Maybe you’ll open your eyes at some of 
mine to-morrow,” she told him proudly, and 
described the disguises for her two chief gifts. 

He eyed her carefully, as he snapped the 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 39 

lock of his bag. “ You seem awfully cocky 
about it. Who helped you ? ” he asked. 

Beth Anne’s pride collapsed. It was one 
of David’s sources of power over her that he 
usually saw through her most sensational 
statements to the truth at the back of them, 
and, although he was ever her champion in 
public, he often privately punctured her swell- 
ing spirit. That she loved him none the less 
for it, but received it in a meek, feminine 
way, proved her worthy of his correction and 
love. 

So now, instead of entering any protest, she 
only said in a subdued voice, “ Mother did 
help wrap them up, — and Father did, too, but 
I got them all myself, every one.” Then with 
the flare of spirit turned in another direction, 
“If you don’t like yours, David Pemberton, 
I’ll never forgive you ” 

A knocking at the door broke in on them, 
and George, announcing luncheon, saved them 
from further argument. 

Luncheon was a jolly meal, for the bell 


40 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

kept ringing to admit parcels of all sizes, and 
when they were not craning their necks to see 
who was at the door, they were racing to the 
’phone, which was going on as if bewitched, 
for everybody was calling up on the least ex- 
cuse to say “ Merry Christmas.” Beth Anne 
was wild with excitement, and David had two 
burning spots on his round cheeks by the time 
they had finished and were ready to go out 
with the presents. 

“ Isn’t it heavenly, and don’t you wish 
Christmas was a mile long? ” she said to him, 
as they all came out on the wide brick terrace 
with their arms full of red-ribboned parcels. 

Major was stamping and flinging up his 
head at the last few flakes of the powdery 
snow, Jackson grinning at his bridle. 

Mr. Burton looked up at the sky, already 
showing patches of vivid blue between the 
sullen gray of its flying clouds. 

“ Storm’s over,” he announced briskly. 
“ You had better start at once for the moss, 
Jackson. Take the little sleigh, and let 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 41 

George take the old one for the baskets. Hop 
in there, infants, — Major wants to be off. 
Lively now ! ” 

“ Reckon he’s jes’ honin’ to see ole Chris. 
Can’t hardly hold him nohow,” said Jackson 
as he released the horse’s head. 

Away they went, keeping an eye on their 
bundles when they swung around a sharp 
corner, or Major danced sideways at a particu- 
larly gay sidewalk display. The crisp air, 
with its tingle of snow crystals, the festive 
streets with their hurrying crowds, made Beth 
Anne’s heart pound. 

“ I feel all fizzy and red inside,” she con- 
fided to David on the back seat. “ Isn’t it 
funny,- — how you feel different colors in your 
stomach ? I felt sort of grumpy green this 
morning when I thought you weren’t com- 
ing.” 

David looked at her critically, puffing out 
his round cheeks. “ Copy cat,” he ventured. 
“ I bet you heard somebody say that.”. 

“ I did not ! ” she cried, indignantly, her 


42 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

eyes flashing blue fire, and her pink mouth 
quivering. “ I just felt it. I’ll never tell 
you any of my inside feelings after this, 
David Pemberton ! You’re very in-charitable 
to think mean things, — when you’re taking 
Christmas presents, too ! ” 

“ Oh, all right,” he said, repentantly. “ I 
didn’t mean anything. Don’t be so touchy,” 
and he slipped his hand over hers in a tight 
squeeze, which she instantly returned with 
fervor. 

“ You’re nice, anyway, Debe,” she whis- 
pered. “ I wasn’t really-for-truly cross at 
you.” 

“ You’re all right, kiddo,” he mumbled, as 
they scrambled out to leave a sheaf of parcels 
at their first stopping place, and peace was as- 
sured for the rest of the way. 

They left most of their burden at half a 
dozen different houses, and were soon on their 
way to Grandmother Murray’s in Charles 
Street, eager to surprise them there with the 
unexpected David. 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 43 

Mrs. Murray lived in a high brick house 
with brass knobbed rails to its curving steps, 
and what Beth Anne called an “ airy way,” 
under the impression that it was so named 
because of the strong draught that swept 
through the basement when its door was open. 

Beth Anne and David were out of the big 
sleigh almost before it had stopped, and were 
tugging at the gleaming brass bell before 
Maria, who had seen them from the base- 
ment, could get up-stairs. As soon as the 
knob turned they were inside, swooping down 
on Grandmother and Aunt Alice, who were 
doing up the last of their traveling things in 
the hall. 

“ David ! ” cried both ladies together, and 
then fell on him, and poor David, who hated 
public demonstrations, had to submit to a lot 
of hugging and kissing. 

“ That scamp ran off from home this morn- 
ing,” called Mr. Burton from the vestibule, 
where his wife was brushing the snow from 
his shoulders. 


44 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Mrs. Murray and Mrs. Austin held up their 
hands in mock dismay, while the culprit 
turned red and grinned. “ You had better 
keep an eye on him, Ted / 7 cautioned Mrs. 
Murray. “ He may give you the slip, too . 77 

Mr. Burton chuckled. “ All of his pres- 
ents are at our house, and I guess he 
knows which side his bread is buttered on, 
Mother . 77 

“ He really did not run away , 77 explained 
Mrs. Burton. “ He only took an earlier train, 
as you all know. But where is Lucia ? 77 

Mrs. Austin shook her head. “ Up to her 
eyes in work, poor girl. She has just found 
Minnie Bell, — you remember her, Carol. 
She used to sew for Lucia when she was at 
Bryn Mawr . 77 

Mrs. Burton nodded. “ A nice quiet girl, 
with pretty hair . 77 

“ Yes, and such a pleasant voice , 77 said Mrs. 
Austin. “ Well, one of the Mission girls 
came to-day for Lucia, and she went imme- 
diately. She found her in desperate straits, 


COUSIN LUCIA’S SHOPPING 45 

in a poor little cold room, without food or 
proper clothing for her two children.” 

“ And at this blessed season ! ” cried Mrs. 
Burton, her eyes filling. “ Where is her hus- 
band ? Why didn’t she come for sewing? I’d 
have been glad to ” 

“ Her husband died over a year ago,” inter- 
rupted Mrs. Austin. “ Then her eyes gave 
out and she had to do scrubbing until a month 
ago, when she was taken ill. The neighbors 
helped her, but the strike has stripped them 
bare and they had nothing more to give. 
She told Lucia it was only for the children’s 
sakes that she asked help. Starvation meant 
little to her after all she had gone through, 
but she couldn’t bear to see them suffer.” 

Beth Anne had a sharp pang at the picture 
of such destitution. “ Why didn’t somebody 
give them things?” she demanded, vehe- 
mently. “ They must be horrid people, self- 
ish, stingy ” 

Mrs. Austin broke in on her denunciation 
of the neighbors’ selfishness. “ You don’t 


46 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

understand, dear,” she said, gently. “ All of 
them are terribly poor and some of them as 
badly off as Minnie. They've done the best 
they could for her. Cousin Lucia was heart- 
broken over the state of things down in that 
neighborhood. We were so thankful that we 
hadn't taken this four o'clock train, Carol. 
Think what it might have meant ! ” 

“ Then you aren’t going?” asked Mr. 
Burton in surprise. “ What is to become of 
Helen ? Have you sent her word ? ” 

Mrs. Austin shook her head. “ She had 
started before we 'phoned, but I thought per- 
haps you would go down to the station, Ted, 
and tell her that we would come on by the 
half-past six. She won't mind our not going 
on with her if she knows what is detaining 
us. We'll get a station taxi, and you needn't 
bother to come for us again. The streets 
down here are easier for machines than in 
your part of town, and we shall do very 
well.” 

“ I'll go notify Helen, of course,” agreed 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 47 

Mr. Burton, heartily. “ And I’ll take you 
later, if you say so.” 

“ It isn’t worth while,” Mrs. Austin assured 
him. “ Lucia is bent on getting a tree and 
some Christmas things for the children, — we 
sent coal and food and some warm clothing 
this morning, — and it will be hard to say just 
when she’ll be through.” 

“ I can leave a visiting card, anyway, for 
those two poor kids,” he said, laying a yellow 
note in Mrs. Austin’s lap. “ And I can ” 

Mrs. Murray, glancing at the clock, gave an 
exclamation. “ You’d better hurry, Ted,” she 
said, “or you’ll miss Helen. And then we 
would have a time ! ” 

“ By Jove, I forgot the time,” he cried, and 
was gone before Beth Anne could whisper for 
a loan on her next month’s allowance. She 
so longed to help that it made her quite mis- 
erable to see her mother’s silver donation, and 
David’s green dollar, — extracted with infinite 
exertions from an inner pouch, — added to the 
yellow note. 


48 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ They’ll think I’m mean as those neigh- 
bors,” she thought, regretfully. “ I hate to 
look mean, when I’m really simply crazy to 
give tons and tons of delicious things. I 
wish ” 

She did not finish her wishing, however, 
for the front door opened with a whirl, and 
Cousin Lucia came in, bringing a sudden 
shaft of belated sunshine with her. 

“ Oh, Carol, you’re the very one I want ! ” 
she cried, kissing them all hurriedly. “ Can 
you lend me George or Jackson to carry the 
bundles for me? I see Mother has told you, 
and thank you all so much for the money : 
but I’ve simply got to have some one go with 
me to the stores, or I’ll never get through in 
time. I can’t find a boy anywhere, — the 
Santa Claus dinner to the newsboys and un- 
employed men has cleared the streets.” 

Her face fell as she heard that George and 
Jackson were off on lengthy missions, and 
that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Burton were avail- 
able. 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 49 

“ Oh, dear, what shall I do ? " she said in 
deep disappointment. 

Beth Anne saw her chance to redeem herself. 

“ Oh, couldn't I go ? I can carry bundles. 
I'm awfully strong, — really-for-truly I am." 

Her mother put an arm about her. “ Could 
you use this female Sampson, Lucia? She 
may not be so muscular as she feels, but surely 
she can help." 

Lucia brightened. “ Indeed, I'd love to," 
she said, warmly. 

“ And me too," put in David, stoutly. 

“ His muscle is all right," laughed his 
aunt. “ He lugged a heavy suit-case across 
town to-day, and was as fit as could be." 

“ Lovely ! " cried Lucia, adjusting her pretty 
new furs. “ Come along, chicks, or we won't 
get back till midnight." 

Mrs. Murray shook her head at even a hint 
of delay. 

“ Five thirty at the latest," she cautioned. 
“ You haven't your bag packed yet. Remem- 
ber, not a moment later, Lucia." 


5 o BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Oh, we’ll be here, or perish in the at- 
tempt 1 ” called Lucia, gaily. 

And then the street door slammed behind 
them, and they were off on their mission of 
love. 

Down the widening lanes that the clinking 
shovels cut in the snow of the pavements 
they hurried, Beth Anne and David trotting 
to keep up with Miss Austin’s swift pace, and 
they were soon in the crowded section of town, 
where the streets were full of happy shoppers, 
jostling each other good-naturedly, while the 
cries of the fakirs rose above the mingled noises 
of the street, and horns tooted and every one 
was laughing and breathless in the last flurry 
of preparation for the morrow. 

Though the people were thick on the frosty 
thoroughfare, a host of tiny moving things 
streamed from the fakirs’ baskets down among 
the hurrying throng. Little brown bears 
walked gravely up and down beating minia- 
ture drums ; tumbling monkeys in red tinsel 
turned somersaults through hoops they car- 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 51 

ried ; chickens scratched and clacked ; ducks 
quacked and waddled idiotically like the true 
barn-yard variety. Beth Anne and David 
laughed at everything, and everything seemed 
delightful to them. Cousin Lucia laughed, 
too, but she kept saying : 

“ Mercy ! We shall never get there ! ” 
Though the sun was now shining, the Kriss 
Kringles at the shop doors and street corners 
were powdered with snow, which shimmered 
down from the housetops at every light gust, 
and Beth Anne had positive thrills of delight 
shivering up and down her spine, as she 
skipped along, holding tightly to Lucia’s 
hand. 

“ Isn’t it queer, — how different Christmas 
is ? ” she said to David. “ No other holidays 
are lovely and shivery like Christmas. Fourth 
of July is all stirred up and banging, and 
Thanksgiving is sort of quiet and food-y. 
None of them make you feel like this, — starry, 
and twinkly, and good ! ” 

He nodded his agreement, too busy to waste 


52 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

speech, and then they plunged into the denser 
crowd of a big store, where they were swal- 
lowed up among the taller people and could 
only catch an infrequent glimpse of a counter, 
but where the decorations were so absorbingly 
beautiful that Beth Anne forgot to care 
whether she were uncomfortably squeezed 
against a counter, or wedged immovably in a 
side aisle. 

When the parcels were handed out they 
seized on them like Christmas vultures, and 
collected bundle after bundle till their arms 
could hold no more. Cousin Lucia’s arms 
were full, too, and the money was almost gone 
when they made the best of their way outside. 

“ Thank goodness, that’s over,” said Miss 
Austin, fervently, as they found themselves in 
the street again. 

“ There ought to be a law against squeezing,” 
gasped poor Beth Anne, with her hat on one 
eye and her bundles very much the worse for 
wear. “ I never saw such scrowdging.” 

“Guess you feel more like Fourth of July 


COUSIN LUCIA'S SHOPPING 53 

than Christmas now,” said David, heartlessly, 
as he adjusted his shattered packages. 

Beth Anne merely raised her chin in 
the air and walked on briskly after Cousin 
Lucia. 

The streets grew quieter as they hurried on, 
and the houses steadily meaner and poorer, 
till they were in the most squalid portion of 
town. Beth Anne looked disdainfully at the 
dingy rows of shabby dwellings. 

“ They don’t look a bit holiday-fied,” she 
scornfully declared. “ They must be horrid, 
— not to care for Christmas.” 

“ Too poor, I guess,” said David. “ But it’s 
a good place to carry bundles in, anyway. 
Those mobs almost tore us to pieces.” 

“ They might just put some red paper 

wreaths then ” began Beth Anne, when 

Miss Austin stopped at a small house with 
sagging wooden steps and a cracked door, 
whose bell handle was hanging out, like some 
dismal kind of decoration. 

“ Here we are,” she said, cheerfully. 


54 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

il Knock on the door, Debe. The bell is 
done for.” 

They waited a long time, and at last a tiny 
ragged girl peeped at them through its cautious 
opening, smiling shyly when she saw Miss Aus- 
tin, but plainly disturbed at the sight of the 
others. 

Beth Anne felt suddenly shy. “ Mayn't 
we wait outside, Cousin Lucia, while you 
explain to her that we are very kind and 
gentle? ” 

David snickered and Miss Austin smiled 
in spite of herself. 

“ Perhaps it would be better for me to go in 
first,” she agreed. “ Put the bundles on this 
chair in the hall. I'll be out in a minute, for 
we have to get the tree, anyway, before we 
can trim it.” 

They obeyed, closing the door quietly be- 
hind them. Beth Anne's busy brain began to 
work immediately. 

“ Don't you wish we had some money, so 
that we could get the tree, and surprise her ? ” 


CO USIN L UCIA ’ S SHOPPING 5 5 

she asked, her eyes beginning to sparkle at 
the thought. 

“ I've got a dollar," said David, dubiously. 
“ But I guess we ought to wait for her, as she 
told us to." 

“ Oh, bother ! " cried Beth Anne, pouting. 
“ You’re too slow for words, David Pember- 
ton ! Cousin Lucia would be glad. She’s in 
an awful hurry, you know." 

“ We-e-ll," he said, and Beth Anne felt he 
was going to give in. 

“ Oh, come on, pokey. We can drag it 
here and stand it up on the step and surprise 
her, don’t you see ? ’’ she cried, dancing with 
impatience. “ She’ll pay you for it, if that’s 
what’s bothering you." 

David was stung by this injustice, and he 
hauled out his last green note with an air of 
determination. 

“ I’ll buy it myself," he declared. “ I saw 
some dandy trees down at the next corner by 
the cigar store with the wooden Indian. We 
may as well get it right away." 


56 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Oh, Debe, how lovely ! ” she cried, danc- 
ing again with pleasant excitement. “ Let’s 
do it.” 

“ We might get some trimming stuff, too,” 
he suggested. 

“ Come on,” she panted, dragging him 
down the steps. “ Won't it be gorgeolifer- 
ous ! Hurry ! Hurry ! ” 


CHAPTER III 


LOST AND FOUND 

Off they raced gaily on their self-imposed 
errand. 

In their short pause on the step, however, 
they had turned away from the end of the 
street by which they had come ; so that when 
they skipped off the sagging step in search of 
the cigar store Indian, they were going in just 
the opposite direction. 

At the corner no Indian showed himself, 
much to David’s chagrin. 

“ It’s the next corner,” he declared. “ We’re 
bound to see the trees, — they’re so green.” 

But before they could turn the next corner, 
Beth Anne gave a sudden squeal and clutched 
David’s arm ; for, from the archway of a tiny 
court, there emerged a big, shaggy brown 
bear, with one man walking beside, and 
another following. 


57 


58 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Oat on the pavement they came, a crowd of 
ragged children at their heels ; and they 
turned directly toward the two runaways. 

Beth Anne shook with agitation. “ Let’s 
go back,” she whispered. “ I can’t go by that 
dreadful bear.” 

David halted, regard for her pulling him 
back, and natural curiosity pushing him 
forward. 

While they hesitated, the bear and its 
leaders stopped and were instantly surrounded 
by a screening circle of children, who laughed 
and clapped at some antics the bear was evi- 
dently performing. 

“ Come on,” urged David, reassured. “ It 
can’t hurt you. Don’t you see it’s tame ? ” 
and he pulled her, still protesting, along with 
him. 

“ Please don’t go too near,” she begged. 
“ I’d rather it ate the others first.” 

They edged into the outer rim of the circle, 
and saw the big shaggy body waltzing slowly 
around with the little red-faced man, while 


LOST AND FOUND 


59 

the other played a small flute for their danc- 
ing. It took Beth Anne’s breath ; she would 
not have changed places with the grinning 
little man for worlds, yet she could not help 
enjoying it. “ It’s like early Christians — 
thrown to beasts,” she thought, excitedly. 
“ Only the people that watched them sat up 
on good safe seats.” 

The tune stopped and the bear stood still, 
swaying from side to side, as bears do. 

“ Now, Mar-r-guer-r-rite,” commanded the 
man loudly, “ sit down and warm your-r-self 
at the fire, as the French ladies do.” 

The bear dropped to a sitting posture, feet 
straight out before her, and, reaching for her 
fore paws, she took hold of her toes, and 
rocked back and forth, seeming to enjoy it 
amazingly. 

The man clapped his hands sharply. 
“ Now, Mar-r-guer-rite, come kees me,” he 
ordered. 

She jumped up with surprising agility, and, 
putting a paw on either shoulder, kissed him 


6o BETH ANNE HERSELF 


first on one cheek and then on the other, 
French fashion. 

It was horribly fascinating to Beth Anne 
and she for a moment forgot to be afraid, but 
when the other man put a tambourine into 
the long-nailed" paws, and the bear waddled 
gravely about the circle holding it out for 
pennies, her panic returned, and she fled. 

David pushed near enough to throw in a 
few coppers, and raced to catch up. 

“ You’re an awful baby,” he told her 
rather tartly as they paused for breath. 

“ I don’t care,” she panted. “ I just won’t 
be clawed and eaten before I know what all 
my presents are. You know that bears al- 
ways prefer young persons, and I’m younger 
than you are. Anyway,” she ended with a 
spurt of spirit, as she looked about her, 
“ there isn’t a tree or an Indian anywhere 
about, and I’m going back.” 

David surveyed the dismal scene, frowning. 
On each poor corner some decrepit shop 
struggled for its meager existence, but none 


LOST AND FOUND 61 

displayed the wooden warrior. He hated to 
admit defeat, but it was really Beth Anne’s 
expedition, and Beth Anne was growing in- 
sistent. 

“ Cousin Lucia will think we have been 
murdered, or mangled, or mutilated,” she 
chattered, liking the sound of the flowing 
words very much indeed. 

“ Pooh, she won’t either ! ” he said, scorn- 
fully, but nevertheless he gave in and turned 
back. 

“ We’ll get the tree afterward,” he prom- 
ised. “ It’ll save time not to hunt around 
here any longer.” 

They started briskly, for the sun was drop- 
ping low behind the dilapidated chimneys, 
making the murky streets more forlorn than 
ever, and they seemed to make good progress, 
for they soon reached the house. 

“ Here we are,” said David, halting and 
knocking at a shabby door with a broken bell, 
and Beth Anne sighed with relief. 

It was not their pretty aunt who answered 


62 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


the summons, but a frowsy peevish woman, 
who peered at them through the crack of the 
door, and asked sharply : 

“ What d’ye want? ” 

Beth Anne put on her best manner. “ Is 
Miss Austin ready for us? She is in Mrs. 
Gardner’s room, if you please.” 

“ Nobody o’ that name here,” snapped the 
woman, slamming the door. 

They faced each other in dismay. Then 
Beth Anne examined the knob. 

“ This is not the place,” she cried. “ Gard- 
ner’s had a china knob. It felt slippery when 
I shut it.” 

David, dismayed, was silent. He was try- 
ing to recall just how the house had looked, 
but it had been so like the others in its row, 
and the row so like the one they were staring 
at, that he gave it up. 

“ I wish we could see a cop to ask the way,” 
he said, rather uneasily. 

Not a policeman was in sight, — only some 
boisterous children playing on the steps of a 


LOST AND FOUND 63 

near-by shop. While he was slowly deciding 
to go and ask one of them, the whole crowd 
suddenly swooped shrieking toward him, and 
Beth Anne, with equally piercing shrieks, 
took to her heels and fled, leaving him no 
choice but to follow. 

The urchins hooted and screamed after them 
for a short distance and then, being out of 
their own territory, gave up the chase, leaving 
as abruptly as they had come. 

Beth Anne’s teeth were chattering. “ I 
guess we’d best go right back to Grandmother 
Murray’s,” she panted. “ We can’t find Cousin 
Lucia, and I don’t like it here.” 

A growing realization that they were really 
lost was chilling David’s spirit, but he merely 
nodded gravely as she clutched his hand con- 
fidently. He hesitated, wondering which way 
to take. 

Beth Anne read his indecision in his 
troubled face. 

“ I w-wish you’d spent all your old money, 
and then you couldn’t have had dollars to 


64 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

throw away like water,” she lamented. Her 
heart was pounding horribly and a big lump 
was rising in her throat, and she was very 
much afraid she might cry right out on the 
street. “ If you had spent your old dollars, 
we wouldn't have bought trees and been lost. 
For,” with a swift change of manner, “ we are 
lost, and you know it, David Pemberton, and 
you needn't say we aren't.” 

He felt she was unreasonable, but, since she 
was a girl and younger than he, tried to be 
patient with her. 

“ Ah, cut it out and come along,” he urged 
with gruff kindness. “ We’ll get there all 
right.” 

The sound of cheerful music caught Beth 
Anne's quick ear and she winked back the 
trembling tears. Across the way, far down 
the block, a wheezy old hurdy-gurdy was 
quavering parodies of popular airs. Between 
the snow piles blocking the street she had a 
glimpse of a dark haired little girl dancing to 
the shrilling tunes. 


LOST AND FOUND 65 

“ Let's ask the organ grinder," she suggested, 
but David shook his head. 

“ We’ll come across a cop pretty soon," he 
promised, but Beth Anne was impatient of 
his slow caution. 

Like a flash, she was dashing across the snow 
piles, straight for the Italian who was grind- 
ing out the tunes. He looked so good-natured 
with his sparkling eyes and twinkling ear- 
rings that she was sure he would be willing to 
help them. David, though he plainly dis- 
approved, followed closely. 

“Buon giorno," she said, with the only 
Italian phrase she had. “ Can you please tell 
us the way to Charles Street ? " 

The man replied with a flood of rapid 
chatter, not one word of which Beth Anne 
could understand. She shook her head from 
side to side. “ We want to go to Charles 
Street," she repeated, clearly. 

David, who had a fixed belief that all for- 
eigners were deaf, made a megaphone of his 
hands, shouting : 


66 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


“ Six eighteen Charles Street ! Charles 
Street ! Charles Street ! ” 

The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at 
Beth Anne in her pretty furs and holiday 
clothes. He seemed to consider for a moment, 
and then he nodded. 

“ All ri’,” he said, with a smile meant to be 
reassuring. “ Ah taka you. You com-a da 
me, queek, huh ? ” 

Beth Anne danced up and down in relief. 
“ Oh, thank you very, very much,” she cried. 
“ We’ll pay you for it, too. Give him the 
dollar, Debe, so he’ll hurry.” 

David gave him the dollar before the organ 
was strapped in its place on his back, and was 
rather startled to see the hilt of a knife in his 
belt, but said nothing to Beth Anne. They 
had to hurry a little to keep up with the 
man’s rapid pace, as he swung ahead, mutter- 
ing to himself in Italian, and neither of them 
had breath for words. 

A tug at Beth Anne’s sleeve made her 
slacken, and the dark haired girl who had 







LOST AND FOUND 67 

been dancing in the snow pulled her behind 
to whisper : 

“ Where's the Guiney takin' you to ? ” 

Beth Anne was only too glad of a friendly 
word. “ He's taking us home. We’re lost, 
you know.” 

“ Oh, I guess yes,” said the girl, scornfully. 
“ Don't you trust no dirty Dago. He’ll swipe 
you, and you won't never see your folks no 
more. That's what he’ll do.” 

Here was a new and appalling danger ; Beth 
Anne, with her faculty for mind pictures, 
swiftly foresaw tragedy. David was glancing 
back and she was afraid to linger. 

“But how can we get home?” she asked, 
forlornly. 

“ You shake the Guiney and come along 
with me. I'll take you. Where do you 
b'long at?” demanded this new friend. 

The wickedness of the world, as revealed 
by this experienced little girl, disheart- 
ened Beth Anne afresh. She signaled to 
David in a shaky undertone, afraid the 


68 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


man might hear and force them to go on with 
him. 

“ S-she says she can take us,” she faltered, 
as David joined them. 

The man, at the sound, stopped too, and 
was eyeing them suspiciously. The change 
in his manner, and something in the girTs 
thin face, together with the memory of that 
knife in the Italian’s girdle, made the offer 
very welcome to David, and so he shouted to 
the frowning Italian, pointing to the girl as 
he spoke. 

“ We’re going with her,” he called, and the 
man understood. 

“ She no good. She bad-a da girl,” he 
growled, with a threatening movement that 
made Beth Anne’s heart stand still. 

But the girl stepped up to him, chin in 
air. “ You go chase yourself,” she defied 
him, “or I’ll call the perlice. Get a move I ” 

“ We’re going with her,” shouted David, 
delighted with her spirit. 

The man faced her with a sullen and 


LOST AND FOUND 69 

clouded look, but she stood defiant, her faded 
clothes fluttering in the sharp wind, and her 
dark mass of hair flung back from her white 
face. They stared at each other for a second, 
and then the man growled again : 

“ She bad-a da girl. You come-a da me.” 

But the three stood in a compact little 
group, valiant outwardly at least, waiting for 
his next move. He only continued to stare 
and frown at them. 

The girl, impatient, stamped her foot. “ Do 
you want me to get the cop ? ” she rapped out, 
fiercely. “ You got the kids’ money, ain’t 
you ? Beat it, I tell you ! ” 

He evidently understood the threat, for, 
after muttering and gesticulating savagely, he 
slowly turned, and, with a very bad grace, 
took himself slowly off. 

“ Pwhew ! that was a close shave ! ” whistled 
the subdued David, but the girl cut him short. 

“ Now, it’s up to us,” she said, curtly, and, 
giving a hand to Beth Anne, with a motion 
to him to follow, away she sped without an- 


7 o BETH ANNE HERSELF 

other word, glancing often over her shoulder 
as she ran. 

They raced along till they reached a street 
of silent warehouses, whose only sign of life 
was the splutter of palpitating arc lights 
through the growing dusk. Here their guide 
stopped, and said, in a hurried way : 

“ That there street ahead's Harvey Street. 
You can get home easy on the trolley now.” 
And she was off before they could speak. 

They stood irresolute as she left them. 
Beth Anne looked helplessly at David, who 
for the moment was as much at loss in the 
strange streets as she. The girl, looking back, 
saw them, paused, and returned. 

“ I got to get home. He’ll be there, and 
there ain’t no supper ready.” 

David was afraid of girls when they were 
cross and hastened to say, “ Yes, yes, you go 
on. We’re all right.” 

Beth Anne tried to be equally cheerful. 
“ Yes, I’m s-sure we can find the way now,” 
she faltered, shivering a little. 


LOST AND FOUND 71 

The girl shook her hair back with a gesture 
that was almost despair. 

“ Aw, well — come on, then,” she said, 
fiercely, and snatched Beth Anne’s hand 
again. 

At the corner with the double car-tracks 
they halted, panting. She scanned the car 
clanging its luminous way through the twi- 
light. 

“ This ain’t yourn,” she announced. “ You 
take the car marked City Hall and get off at 
Charles Street.” And once again she turned 
to leave them. 

“ Wait,” begged David, struggling for words 
to thank her, when a voice from behind them 
made them all start. 

“ You Jinny ! ” it cried. “ Where you goin’, 
— this time o’ night?” 

The girl turned fearlessly, while Beth Anne 
and David shrank before the angry and di- 
sheveled creature who had risen out of the 
shadows behind them. 

“ I’m goin’ to take you along home with 


7 2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

me this minute, — that’s what I’m doin’,” she 
responded, severely, with an air of authority 
bewildering to the other two children. 

It was evident that the unkempt woman 
was part of her daily life, for she took the 
abuse hurled at her as a matter of course, 
while Beth Anne, terrified beyond speech, 
clung to David, ready to fly if the woman so 
much as looked at her. 

The shrill voice ceased abruptly, as a police- 
man sauntered into the circle of light where 
they stood beneath the street lamp, but her 
silence came too late. He halted her, as she 
would have slunk whimpering into the 
shadows, and motioning to the ill-assorted 
group, demanded sternly : 

“ What’s this ? What are ye up to now ? ” 

Jinny closed her lips defiantly, while Beth 
Anne and David spoke at once. 

“ We’re lost. And she’s taking us home. 
And she,” pointing to the woman, “ just came 
up this very minute. She wasn’t doing any- 
thing to us.” 


LOST AND FOUND 73 

" It’s God’s blessed truth, as I live,” babbled 
the woman, edging off to a doorway. 

The officer opened his lips again, when a 
shriek from Beth Anne stopped him. A flare 
of light swept past to the pulse of a big ma- 
chine. 

“ Oh, stop her ! Stop her ! ” she cried, 
jumping up and down. “ Oh, it’s Cousin 
Lucia ! Stop her ! ” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

Quick as thought the officer put his whistle 
to his lips and blew a piercing blast. The 
driver slowed down, craning his neck to see 
what was wanted, and, at a second blast, drew 
his machine to the curb and waited. 

It was Cousin Lucia, sure enough, going 
home, after an hour’s futile search, to break 
the news and notify the police of the mysteri- 
ous disappearance of Beth Anne and David. 
She had just given up hope of finding them 
herself, and had her handkerchief at her eyes 
when the car suddenly halted and the whirl- 
wind burst in on her. 

“ Oh, you dear angels ! ” she cried, laughing 
and crying and hugging them all at once. 
“ Where have you been? I’ve been walking 
about and driving about and asking questions 
74 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 75 

till I’m dead ! I almost collapsed when I 
found the step empty, — why didn’t you stay 
put ? ” 

David soberly explained, while Beth Anne 
put her head on the soft furs and wept till 
there was a big wet spot right in the front of 
Cousin Lucia’s new scarf. The officer and 
little girl stood close to the car door, intent 
on the recital. The woman slipped into the 
dusk and was gone unnoticed. 

“ And so,” David ended, “ she was showing 
us which trolley to take when he,” nodding 
to the officer, “ came up. And Beth Anne 
squeaked, and you stopped. That’s all there 
is to tell.” 

“ It’s all right now, ma’am, I guess,” said 
the policeman, who was anxious to be off to 
his own Christmas eve at home. “ I’m glad 
you found the kids so easy. It’s fierce, — be- 
ing lost holiday times, ain’t it, now ? I’ll be 
movin’ on, and you can run home too, sissy,” 
he said kindly enough to the girl still hesitat- 
ing at his elbow. 


76 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

As the man went off briskly with a genial 
“ good-night,” Miss Austin bent toward the 
girl. 

“ Won’t you let us take you home, dear ? ” 
she asked, gratefully. “ You have been so 
good to these two scamps that we want to 
thank your mother for your having saved 
them ” 

Beth Anne's interest in her preserver flared 
up and she stopped her sobs to listen. 

“ I ain’t got no mother,” the girl interposed, 
harshly. “ I don’t want that you should go 
out o’ your way for me.” 

“ Tell us where you live anyhow,” pleaded 
Beth Anne, almost crying again in disap- 
pointment. “For you’ve just got to come 
and see my tree to-morrow, you know.” 

The girl mumbled a number reluctantly, 
and Miss Austin wrote it hastily down in her 
card-case. “ I haven’t much time to-night,” 
she explained. “ I am going away to the 
country with my mother in half an hour, but 
Beth Anne and David want you to share some 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 77 

of their fun to-morrow. Mr. or Mrs. Burton 
will see to that, I know.” 

Beth Anne almost cut herself in half hang- 
ing over the door to reach Jinny’s arm. 

“ Do promise,” she urged. “ We always 
have a lovely tree, and it’s going to be twice 
as bee-utiful this year. Please, please ! ” 

“ You’d better,” added David. “ We have 
dandy times at Uncle Ted’s.” 

The big dark eyes were raised to each in 
turn, searching for some flaw in the kind 
speeches. Satisfied and doubly shy, she spoke 
huskily, as if unused to gentle speech. 

“ All right, I’ll come, sure,” she said, and 
ran off before anything more could be said. 

Beth Anne very nearly tumbled out en- 
tirely, as she called after her, “ Don’t forget ! 
come early ! ” but the girl was gone, unheed- 
ing. 

As the car sped swiftly on its way, they 
cuddled down beside Cousin Lucia, asking 
and answering eager questions. They shook 
at the possibility of what might have befallen 


78 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

them if Jinny had not interposed. Beth 
Anne in particular felt very remorseful when 
Cousin Lucia, with a tighter hug, said that 
she had been almost sure that God would take 
care of them, since they were on an errand of 
love. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” she wailed, contritely. “ I 
forgot all about that, — ‘ calling on Him in 
trouble/ or whatever it is. That Italian might 
have chopped us up in mince-meat, for all of 
me.” 

Lucia patted her moist cheek. “ I guess He 
doesn’t stop caring, duckie, just because we for- 
get sometimes.” 

“ But I hate to be such a pig ! ” sighed Beth 
Anne. “ And I ’most generally always am, 
when things are happening. Things are so 
very — attracting, aren’t they, Cousin Lucia ? ” 

Lucia laughed. “ Especially Christmas 
trees. I’ll never trust you two again, — un- 
less you are chained to the spot.” 

“ It was my fault ’cause I saw the trees, 
and I had the money,” said David, manfully. 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 79 

“ It wasn’t him more than me,” cried Beth 
Anne, ungrammatical but loyal. Her protest 
was cut short as they swung to a halt at their 
own door, and all scrambled out in haste. 

“ Hello ! ” said Mr. Burton who was stand- 
ing before the hall fireplace talking to his 
wife. “ You’re late ! ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Burton. “ We were be- 
ginning to think you were lost.” 

“ We were ! ” they shouted. 

“ Really-for-truly lost ! ” flashed Beth Anne, 
dancing. “ And an Italian took us, and 
Jinny got us away and she’s coming to-mor- 
row, and she brought us home, — only Cousin 
Lucia came along in a machine she got to 
hunt us in, and we came home here right 
now ! ” 

“ Mercy, Beth Anne, what a tale ! ” laughed 
her mother, when Lucia, at the door, broke in 
with : 

“ It’s quite true. We’ve had a most dread- 
ful time.” 

And then she swiftly told the story, while 


8o BETH ANNE HERSELF 


the two were alternately hugged and scolded 
till Beth Anne said, weakly : 

“ Oh, please ! I feel so squirmy in my 
stomach ! I want to cry with my eyes and 
laugh with my mouth ! ” 

They all laughed at that, and her father, 
catching her up in his strong arms, held her 
close, saying, “ What you need, Snippet, is a 
large dose of supper. It's lucky that we’re 
feeding early to-night. Come on, Lucia, join 
the relief expedition.” 

“ Can’t possibly, — though I’m famishing,” 
she replied briefly. “ I must fly, or I’ll miss 
that train. Mother will be worried to death 
as it is.” She kissed them good-bye hastily. 
“ Good-bye, Carol dear, and a Merry Christ- 
mas to you all.” 

Mrs. Burton put a detaining hand on her 
arm. “ It’s too bad you didn’t get the tree, 
but we’ll see to it that they have one. We 
owe you that much, surely. Those two 
young monkeys hindered more than they 
helped.” 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 81 


“ Yes, we’ll see they have a dazzler,” said 
Mr. Burton, gaily. “ I have to go down to 
that delectable spot to see the rescuing angel’s 
people, and I’ll simply revel in a chance to 
display my taste, — Carol never gives me half 
a whack at our own tree.” 

“ Oh, if you would ! ” said Lucia, gratefully. 
“ I’ll be so much happier to-morrow, knowing 
they are having a real Christmasy day, poor 
babies. You’re an angel yourself, Ted, and 
I know you’ll do it beautifully. Good-bye 
again, and don’t forget to write all about it, 
for I’ll be crazy to hear.” 

With a gay farewell she hastened after Mr. 
Burton, who made the final arrangements 
with her while he tucked her into the ma- 
chine and then watched her tear away 
through the lumpy snow at a law-defying 
pace. 

They had an early meal, half supper, half 
luncheon, and then Mr. Burton left to execute 
his various commissions. 

“ Now,” said Mrs. Burton, “ we must see 


82 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


what we can get together for your little girl’s 
Christmas. We don't want her to be the only 
one without presents, do we ? ” 

“ No, indeed ! ” they cried. “ We’ll give 
her some of ours.” 

“ How about those things we got for Mary 
Hunt?” asked Mrs. Burton, gently. “ I think 
Mary would like her to have them, if she 
knew.” 

Beth Anne’s eyes filled with quick tears for 
the friend who, only three short weeks ago, 
had slipped out of their happy lives. The 
memory of Mary, white and still among the 
flowers in the quiet room, brought a stab of 
sorrow so keen it took away her voice, and 
she could only nod. 

“ I got a tablet and pencil-box,” said David, 
gruffly. “ They’re bran new, and I don’t 
want them.” 

They got together a goodly pile of pretty 
things to be put with the other presents in 
the sitting-room, and then, following an old 
custom of theirs, Beth Anne and David went 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 83 

to bed early, that the morning might come 
the sooner. 

Beth Anne had just slipped into bed, when 
the closing of the front door made her sit up 
again. 

“ It's Father,” she said, listening. “ I won- 
der if he got the tree. And, 0I1, I hope he 
saw Jinny ! ” 

She listened to the subdued murmur of 
voices in the lower hall till she could stand it 
no longer. She jumped out of bed, and ran 
to the landing, whence she peered eagerly 
down at her father and mother. They were 
talking very seriously, and she caught his 
words : 

“ The fellow is a mighty rough specimen. 
He claims to be her father, but his tale doesn't 
seem to hang together.” 

Beth Anne was not given to eavesdropping, 
and moreover she was impatient for news of 
Jinny, so she called down : 

“Did you see her? Is she coming for 
sure?” * 


84 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

He started, glancing absently up at the 
eager little figure. “ Run along to bed. 
You’ll get cold, pattering about in bare feet,” 
he said. 

“ But is she coming? ” persisted Beth Anne, 
beginning obediently to retreat, hopping back- 
ward, with her eye still on him. 

“ Yes, she’ll be here, Snippet, trot along ! ” 
He blew her a kiss, and went on with his talk 
with his wife. 

Beth Anne danced off to tell David, but 
that young person was already sound asleep, 
much to her disgust, and so she had to cuddle 
down in her own white nest without sharing 
her revised plans for Jinny’s entertainment 
with him. 

“ Now I wonder whom Father was talking 
about ? ” she thought, as she pulled the covers 
to the very top of her ears to keep off the 
spooky feeling that even Christmas could not 
dispel. “ Oh, dear, I can’t wait till morning. ” 
She nestled lower, drifting off dreamily, and 
then, as a memory of her fear as to David’s 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS 85 

coming floated through her mind, she made a 
sleepy motion of tossing her head. “ It wasn’t 
my goose-bone, after all. It was a 1 permoni- 
tion,’ like those Car’line sometimes has. She 
says trouble aways comes after you have them 
— and — and — why, of course ! We went and 
got lost. So it came true.” 

A whiff of the spicy fragrance of the tree 
came up to her buried nose. “ We’re going 
to have a perfectly splendiferous time — all the 
presents — and the tree — and the party. I 

don’t believe I’ll go to sleep at all — I’ll ” 

and in the midst of her decisions, she fell fast 
asleep. 

It was not yet light when a gentle tapping 
waked Beth Anne with a start, to see David 
beside her bed, beating a tattoo on the shiny 
post with one hand while he tried to rub the 
sleep out of his eyes with the other. 

“ Get up, kiddo. It’s late,” he whispered. 

She was wide awake at once. “ Don’t go 
without me,” she entreated, scrambling for 
her clothes, while he disappeared into his 


86 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

room with a flash of pink pajamas and bare 
heels. 

She raced through her dressing pell-mell, 
hating to waste an instant. 

“ Thank goodness, I don’t have to take a 
bath this one morning! I just can’t even 
wash my face till I see the things,” she said 
breathlessly, pulling on her stockings. 

She flung on her dress and tiptoed to the 
door. 

“ Debe,” she whispered, “ are you ready ? ” 

“ Uh-huh. Pretty near,” was the stifled 
response, as he came out struggling with a 
refractory collar button, his shoes clutched 
under his arm. 

“ Come on, pokey ! ” she urged, palpitating 
with excitement. “ I can’t wait hours and 
hours for you,” and she gave him a little pull. 

Down dropped his shoes, tumbling with an 
unearthly clatter all the way to the hall 
below. Both halted, aghast at the din one 
small pair of tan shoes could make in the 
stillness. 


NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS §7 

“ Gracious 1 ” giggled Beth Anne, recover- 
ing her spirits first, but his hand over her 
mouth silenced her. 

They waited breathless for any sign from 
the room across the way, but none coming 
they stole noiselessly on their way. Whisper- 
ing cautions to each other, and stopping at 
every creak of the stair, they gained the lower 
hall and the closed curtains of the dark sit- 
ting-room. 

“Now then ! ” said David, thrillingly, and 
gave Beth Anne’s hand an extra squeeze, as 
they pushed between the heavy curtains into 
the shadowy room. 


CHAPTER V 


A HAPPY MORNING 

“Now remember,” cautioned David, with 
his hand on the switch. “ Eyes shut till I 
count three.” 

Beth Anne had no breath for mere words. 
She squeezed her eyes tight, and at the magic 
“ three,” they opened on the fairy scene before 
them. 

At first her raptured vision caught only a 
jumble of delights, the glitter of tinsel, the 
glow of many colors, and the rich green of 
laurel and spruce. She shut her hands tight, 
hopping up and down to keep from flying 
apart, as she afterward said. 

“ Oh, oh, oh ! ” she whispered inadequately. 

Then, as she looked, she saw in the midst of 
the garlanded splendor the Tree, brave in 

shimmering fairy and radiant star, looped 
88 


A HAPPY MORNING 89 

about with gay strings of balls, and bright 
with glittering globes of color that swung and 
palpitated like tiny planets. Sparkling but- 
terflies and little brown birds poised and flut- 
tered here and there ; while quivering on their 
elastic cords were the funny German toys, — 
the clown with the boy by the ears, the 
butcher with the bad dog that had stolen 
the roll of sausages, and the chubby, wide- 
brimmed William Penn, — all of them were 
there, to the very last one. 

“ There's the Thimble man ! ” cried Beth 
Anne. 

“ And the little wren ! ” added David. 

“ And the Dutch angel I ” clamored Beth 
Anne. 

“ And the man with the big scissors ! ” 
chanted David. 

“ Oh, isn't it too gorgeously, bee-utifully 
lovely ! " crowed Beth Anne, with a bear hug. 

“ Dandy I " he gasped, struggling away from 
her, and almost tumbling into a pile of things 
that were heaped beside the desk. 


9 o BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Here are my presents,” he cried and 
flopped down beside them. 

“ Oh, look ! ” he shouted, pulling out a pair 
of hockey skates from under his Chatterbox. 
“ And here’s a basket-ball in my sweater. 
Look at the monogram, too, would you I 
That’s some class of a sweater. And here’s 
Cooper, and a Kipling book, — oh, jolly, I can’t 
look at ’em fast enough ! ” 

“ There are tons of books and games,” com- 
mented Beth Anne, hardly able to wait for her 
turn. “ And what gobs of candy ! ” 

“ Great, aren’t they ? ” he said, flushed and 
elated and rapidly going through the pile. 
“ Best ever. Now for yours, Snip.” 

The pile on the other side of the desk was 
more be-ribboned, — as a girl’s should be, but 
there was a sweater, too, a long gray one laid 
very flat on the floor, and a pair of shining 
skates showing among the ribbons. 

As she picked up the sweater, something hard 
and long and flat fell out of it with a whack. 

“ Snow-shoes, like those the Indians wear I ” 


A HAPPT MORNING 91 

she cried ecstatically, tearing off the papers. 
“ I wanted them so, but we couldn’t get my 
size. Aren’t they too heavenly for words ? ” 

“ Give me one,” said David, sitting down. 

They strapped one on each right foot, and 
slid about the carpet, feeling like genuine 
Winnebagos. 

“ Easy as dirt,” commented David. “ If it 
doesn’t melt before we get out, we’ll show ’em. 
Let’s see your skates.” 

“ Here they are,” she said burrowing among 
the papers. “ Lovely ones, — no back strap. 
I hate ladies’ skates. They’re so wobbly.” 

“ There now,” said David, unearthing a 
plain little clock. “ You won’t ever have to 
be late again.” 

She giggled shamelessly. “ I guess it 
would have to have a shaker attachment if it 
wanted to get me up early.” 

The next parcel proved to be a leather 
writing-pad, which she hugged to her heart, 
for scribbling was her dearest occupation, after 
reading. 


92 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ I’ll write all my Christmas letters on it 
right away,” she declared. 

“ Good enough. Sit right down and be- 
gin. I’ll open the rest of the things for you,” 
suggested David promptly. 

She flung it down instantly. “ Better not 
try,” she laughed, diving into the remaining 
pile. “ This is a sachet from Madelon, and 
if here isn’t another just like it from Alice 
Green. This is from Bess Hammond, — I 
know her writing. A silk work-bag with 
something inside. Oh, how funny ! ” 

David craned his neck to see the card, 
drawn and colored by Bess herself, picturing 
Beth Anne in cap and spectacles darning her 
grandchildren’s stockings, with this very green 
silk bag in her lap. 

“ Gee ! She can draw some,” said David, 
admiringly. “That looks just like you with 
your pug nose and dimples.” 

But Beth Anne had dropped the bag and 
was making a dash for the fireplace. 

“ We forgot the stockings ! ” she said, breath- 


A HAPPY MORNING 93 

lessly, as she grabbed hers and began to pull out 
small packages, before David could reach his. 

She had her first unwrapped in a trice. 
“ Look ! ” she squealed, holding up a silver 
pen. 

“ I got a fountain pen,” David rejoined, 
pulling out a long box. “ And, hello, here's 
a knife, — a dandy ! ” 

“ I have a knife, too, — a little one,” chat- 
tered Beth Anne. “ And a card-case.” 

“ Just matches mine !” he cried, displaying 
his. 

“ All the rest is candy,” they chanted to- 
gether. 

“ With the big candy toy, same as ever ! ” 
he added. 

“ And the same old orange at the toe,” she 
ended joyfully. “ Now let's look at the tree 
again.” 

They sat down on the floor with their arms 
full of books and their mouths full of candy. 

“ It's the best ever,” said David warmly, 
swallowing a lime-drop in his fervor. 


94 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Beth Anne nodded, a big gum-drop block- 
ing speech for the moment. With her treas- 
ures about her, she gave herself up to the en- 
chantment of the hour, rocking quietly on her 
crossed legs, while David, after one long satis- 
fying look, turned to his books. 

As she gazed at the tree, all a-glitter with 
light and color, her mind went back to it as 
she first had seen it with the clinging snow 
on its close tied branches. The memory of 
her mother’s words recurred to her, and she 
smiled at it as though it could understand. 

“‘So many years growing for just one 
day/ ” she quoted, adding quickly, “ But such 
a lovely day ! I’d like to finish up like that, 
— all lights and things ! ” and she thrilled at 
the picture. 

“ David,” she asked abruptly, “ where do 
Christmas trees go when they die? ” 

He looked up absently. “ Don’t go any- 
where, — just burnt up, or are chopped up.” 

She shook her head emphatically. “ Every- 
day trees do, but Christmas trees are different. 


A HAPPT MORNING 95 

When I go to heaven, I expect to have whole 
rows of our Christmas trees in our front yard.” 

“ Don’t have front yards in heaven,” he as- 
serted dogmatically, putting down his book. 

“ I’m going to have a big garden,” she 
mused, nursing one ankle. “ I’ll have Christ- 
mas trees along the walks, and beds of Easter 
flowers, and Fourth of July flags all around.” 

“ Hot old garden you’ll have,” he said, 
picking up the basket-ball and beginning to 
blow it up. “ Sounds like the Dutch up at 
school, — they have everything in a jumble 
like that,” he commented between puffs. 

Beth Anne forgot her heavenly hopes in 
the sight of the inflating ball. 

“ Jiminy, what a big one ! ” she cried. 
“ Let me help tie it.” And she jumped up 
to put an eager finger on the tube string as he 
knotted it. “ Let’s try how it goes,” she sug- 
gested, as he finished. 

He poised it for the throw, when the strik- 
ing of the hall clock stayed his hand in the 

very act. Like a flash he dropped the ball 
, * 


96 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

and fled for the stairs, but in a twinkling she 
was after him, racing him to the upper land- 
ing, where according to custom they split on 
the upper flights, she going to the left and he 
to the right, to meet in an excited scramble 
at the door, on which they thundered joy- 
ously, crying with shouts of laughter : 

“ Merry Christmas ! Time to get up I 
Merry Christmas I ” 

At the answering shout from within, they 
entered riotously. 

“ Do come down and see ! ” cried Beth 
Anne, almost choking because she could not 
do justice to the delights that waited below. 
“ It’ll just make you hop, it’s so lovely ! ” 

“ Sure ! ” said David prancing about, puff- 
ing on an ear-piercing whistle till his cheeks 
were as round and red as any cherub ever im- 
agined by any old Dutch painter. 

Mr. Burton, coming out' of his dressing- 
room, with a foam of lather on his chin, put 
his fingers in his ears. 

“ Clear out, you disturbers of the peace,” 


A HAPPY MORNING 97 

he laughed. “ Tell George to have breakfast in 
ten minutes, and we’ll try to make it. Now, 
trot.” 

Down they raced to the pantry, creeping 
softly to the kitchen door, and then hammer- 
ing like mad upon it. 

George and Car’line both called out in pre- 
tended alarm : 

“ Who there? ” 

“ 1 Christmus gif ! Christmus gif ! ’ 19 
shrieked Beth Anne and David jubilantly. It 
was the first time they had ever caught George. 

The door flew open, and George’s broad 
smile appeared. 

“ Now then, you done it,” he declared. “ I 
got a fine gif’ fer each on you, right yere in 
ma han\ Which does you take ? ” 

Beth Anne chose the right and David the 
left, so as to make sure of it. They crowded 
close, while George backed off, pretending to 
repent his promise. 

“ I’se mighty sorry to paht wif’ it,” he par- 
leyed. 


98 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ You have to/’ Beth Anne fired up im- 
mediately. “ We said 1 Christmus gif’/ as you 
always do. Vd hate to be mean on Christmas.” 

He laughed good-naturedly. “ Reckon you 
might as well have ’em atter all,” he grinned, 
displaying fat doughnuts in either hand. 

They seized on them hilariously, gobbling 
them as though starving, while they forgot 
all about the message they were sent to de- 
liver. 

It made no difference, however, — nothing 
ever does on Christmas morning, and by the 
time Mr. and Mrs. Burton came down break- 
fast was served, with much gaiety and infinite 
good-humor. The servants had their presents 
while the meal was going on, and the mail 
parcels, too, were opened and there was a per- 
fect hubbub of delight. David’s smile grew 
broader and broader, until Beth Anne cried 
out at him : 

“ David Pemberton, don’t smile another 
inch I You’ll never come back in shape 
again if you don’t look out ! ” 


A HAPPY MORNING 99 

“ You needn't talk," grinned David. 
“ You’re the image of that Chessy cat in 
Alice." 

Mr. Burton rose. “ Now for our presents," 
he said, leading the way to the sitting-room. 

David brought his out first. Beth Anne 
wriggled with impatience as he sorted them 
slowly over. She danced with delight at her 
mother’s admiration of the sparkling hat-pin. 
She could scarcely keep from praising the 
pouch before her father had unwrapped it. 
When her own was handed her, she had a 
hard time with the knots, finally tearing it 
open. She clapped her hands as shining 
lengths of blue ribbon slipped softly out. 

“ You dear elegant boy ! " she cried, and 
then stopped in dismay. “ You — you told a 
fib," she stammered. “ You said it was for 
my chiffonier." 

“ Well," grinned David, “ what do you 
keep in your top drawer ? " 

She laughed with relief, for David was her 
ideal of honor, and taking a bright paper box 


ioo BETH ANNE HERSELF 

from her own collection, she thrust it into his 
hand. 

“ See what you get for being so smart,” she 
said gratefully. 

He opened it, his tongue in his cheek, and 
face red with anticipation. 

“ Dandy,” he exclaimed, holding up a gay 
Canadian cap and mittens. “ Just the thing 
to go snow-shoeing in.” 

Beth Anne relieved her feelings by swooping 
down on him with a tremendous hug, just as he 
had slipped on the cap, and could not escape. 

“Cut it out! You’re choking me!” he 
gasped, while Mrs. Burton caught Beth Anne 
and laughingly pulled her away from her 
victim. 

“ Next ! ” said Mr. Burton, and Beth Anne 
flew for the large tissue-paper bundle that had 
been done up in the studio. 

No sooner had Mrs. Burton laid eyes on it 
when she cried : 

“ Mercy ! That must be from Cousin Jane. 
It looks like that ! ” 


A HAPPY MORNING ioi 


“ Open it ! Open it ! ” cried the donor, so 
giddy from excitement she could hardly stand. 

When the papers came off, and she saw the 
relief in her mother’s face, she flopped into 
the Morris chair, crying : 

“ Isn’t it splendiferous ? Aren’t you glad 
it’s a candlestick? Don’t you love twinkly 
brass ? ” 

Mrs. Burton opened her arms. “ How did 
you manage to do it ? ” she asked in a very 
satisfactory tone. 

Mr. Burton interposed. “ Am I to be left 
present-less, while you two bill and coo? 
Or don’t I get any this year ? ” 

Beth Anne sprang up, her vivid face glow- 
ing and her eyes brilliant. “ I haven’t a thing 
here for you, you see,” and she spread her 
hands wide. 

“He can share mine ” began Mrs. 

Burton, when George’s smiling face appeared 
in the doorway. 

“ A passel somebody drapped at the do’,” 
he announced briskly. 


io2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


“ That must be from Frank, — he is always 
late,” said Mr. Burton, taking up the box, 
and holding it at arm's length. “ Thunder, a 
hat ! What in the world ” 

Beth Anne and David doubled up in their 
efforts to hide their mirth. 

“Open it ! ” they squealed. “ Oh, open it. 
Hurry I ” 

Very slowly he undid the many wrappings, 
his expression growing more perplexed as he 
got nearer to the center. He came at last on 
the hard round package, and he took it out 
with a clearing brow. 

“ It’s not a hat, after all, thank goodness ! ” 
he cried, still puzzled but much relieved. 

They were breathless as he took off the final 
wrappers and the basket was revealed. 

“ There I ” he exulted. “ That's something 
like ! It’s a beauty. Who knew I wanted a 
basket like that ? ” 

“ Look inside,” crowed Beth Anne, strutting 
up and down. 

“Poetry, by Jingo!” he exclaimed, draw- 


A HAPPT MORNING 103 

ing forth a paper. “ Let’s see how it goes,” 
and striking an attitude, he read : 

“ This basket made of colored rushes, 

And by a Mex-i-can, 

Is meant for water-color brushes (or any- 
thing else you choose) 

The gift of your Beth Anne.” 

“ Fine ! ” he cried. “ You're a poet, Beth 
Anne. Do poets allow parents to kiss them, 
or must I hook down one of the laurel wreaths 
to lay on your brow? ” 

“ That’s great,” declared David enthusias- 
tically. “ Wasn’t it cute, — to do it up like a 
hat? Gee! Uncle Ted, you looked funny 
when George handed it to you.” 

“ Funny, did I ? Well, I didn’t feel funny, 
— getting a hat.” 

David chuckled. “ You looked as if you’d 
have been pretty mad if it hadn’t been Christ- 
mas.” 

“ So I should, — raging tearing mad. But I 
was not a patch on your Aunt Carol when she 
saw the centerpiece. Did you notice how I 
got behind Beth Anne ? ” 


io4 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Mrs. Burton's soft laugh rippled out. “ I 
did feel awfully ferocious," she confessed. “ It 
was a great relief to find my lovely candle- 
stick. I hope David will like his present 
from us quite as well. We tried to get some- 
thing that would please our boy," and she 
handed him a canvas case that had been 
hidden behind the Morris chair. 

He had the gun out of its case in a twin- 
kling, and speechless with joy, could only rub 
and pat it in a stupor of bliss. Beth Anne 
was almost equally pleased, but joy never 
robbed her of speech. 

“ Isn’t it fine I" she cried, seizing it from 
him and sighting the topmost ball on the 
tree. “ Now we can go gunning for sure. I 

wouldn’t be afraid of a bear ’’ She 

stopped at the expression in David’s eyes, and 
then her chin went up and she finished, defi- 
antly, “Pouf! I would shoot that old Mar- 
guerite quick as look at her, if she came for me.’’ 

“ Bet you’d shake to pieces if she was 
within a mile of you,’’ laughed David. 


A HAPPY MORNING 105 

Mr. Burton saw that Beth Anne was on the 
brink of an explosion, so he said, hastily : 

“ You may borrow the gun, if you will share 
your present with David, ” and he put a little 
leather box into her hands. 

“ Of course I will, dear old Debe,” said Beth 
Anne quickly, ashamed of her petulance, and 
then she gasped as she saw, coiled on the 
velvet lining, a plain little gold chain. 

“ Oh ! Oh ! ” she sighed in rapture. “ The 
very thing I’ve longed for for years and years 
and years. You sweet, lovely, obliging pa- 
rent, M and she flew to embrace him, regardless 
of their shouts of laughter. 

David grinned. “ I’d look sweet with that 
on me,” he scoffed. “ But you can borrow the 
gun just the same, kiddo.” 

In the midst of the tumult the hall clock 
boomed out. 

“ Eleven already ! ” cried Mrs. Burton. 
“ Your little girl will be here soon, Beth Anne, 
but there is just time for one thing more.” 
She slipped a flat package into her hand. “ I 


io6 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


want you to use this every day, and at the end 
of the year you can see whether you have 
grown better as well as wiser.” 

Beth Anne, who had been undoing the gift 
as her mother spoke, burst out joyfully at the 
sight of the fat red diary, the blank pages of 
which seemed to teem with such delightful 
possibilities. 

“ I love it! I just simply adore it ! ” she 
cried. “ I’ll write everything in it. All the 
noble things I do, and all the funny things that 
happen. And then when I am old, my grand- 
children and great-grandchildren shall have it.” 

The bell sounded above their mirth. 

“ There she is now ! ” exclaimed Beth Anne. 
“ Are we ready, Mother? ” 

“ Are we to stand in a row to receive her, 
waving sprays of holly in greeting ?” asked 
Mr. Burton, whimsically. 

“ Don’t be ridiculous, Ted,” remonstrated 
his wife. “ You know you are as much inter- 
ested as we are. Come, we will go into the 
hall. Draw the curtains, Beth Anne.” 


CHAPTER VI 


ENTER JINNY 

Beth Anne and David had rushed to the 
door before George could reach it, and they 
returned, ushering in their small girl, whose 
shabby clothes had been carefully put on and 
whose serious countenance was shiny from 
scrubbing. 

“ Here she is, Mother,” cried Beth Anne 
dancing beside the sedate little figure. “ Here’s 
Jinny. May we show her everything right 
away ? ” 

Mrs. Burton took Jinny’s thin hand in a 
warm grasp. 41 1 am so glad to see you,” she 
said gently. “ I have a great deal to thank you 
for.” 

“ ’Twasn’t nothing,” the girl replied harshly, 
drawing back. 

Mrs. Burton, looking into the defiant face, 
107 


108 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

saw more than either Lucia or her husband 
had told her in the rather meager descrip- 
tion they had each given of the rescuer of Beth 
Anne and David. They had both spoken of 
the child as seeming to be hard and sullen, 
but, as she looked into the half frightened eyes 
that were raised unflinchingly to hers, she saw, 
beneath the pinch of poverty and blur of ig- 
norance, a certain beauty, both of body and 
soul, and a fine sensitiveness for which the 
defiant manner was but the cloak. 

A wave of tenderness swept over Beth 
Anne’s mother and, stooping, she put her 
arms about the shrinking figure, drawing it 
close as she whispered : 

“ You can’t think what you have done for 
us, dear. We are so very thankful to you for 
Beth Anne and David.” 

Jinny made no audible response, but Mrs. 
Burton, as she released her, felt her tremble 
and saw the long dark lashes quiver for a mo- 
ment before they were raised again, with a 
curious softening in their depths. 


ENTER JINNT 109 

Mr. Burton shook hands with her cordially. 
“ Glad to see you,” he said heartily. “ We 
were afraid you were going to be late.” 

The atmosphere of kindly welcome thawed 
something of the girl’s reserve, and the won- 
derful eyes had a smile in them as she spoke. 

“I had a tough job gettin’ here, after all,” 
she said. “ Mis’ Bender had a spell, and Steve 
wanted me to stay home. But she went to 
sleep, and I come right off.” 

“ Now,” said Beth Anne, who had been 
standing first on one foot and then on the 
other while the brief introductions were going 
on, “ come and see the tree 1 ” 

“ And your presents, too ! ” cried David. 

“ Yes, run along with David and Beth 
Anne,” said Mrs. Burton kindly. “ I will call 
you all when it is time to get ready for 
dinner.” 

They piloted her through the library to the 
closed curtains of the sitting-room. Here they 
halted her while they drew the folds of heavy 
velour back to reveal the enchanting room, 


no BETH ANNE HERSELF 


with all the gusto of showmen sure of their 
audience. They had their reward in her ec- 
static wonder. 

“ Gee ! ” was all that she could breathe at 
first, but it was enough, — the way she said it. 

Her glance swept the room, noting every- 
thing, and resting on the jumbled heaps of 
presents on the floor. 

“ Are they all yourn ? ” she asked in an 
awestruck tone. 

“ Beth Anne’s and mine,” affirmed David, 
beaming on her. “ But there are some for 
you, too.” 

She did not seem to hear him, but walked 
slowly about, touching some of the luxurious 
chairs with a delicate finger and standing 
long before the pictures that were almost 
hidden by the laurel festoons. 

Beth Anne pulled her away, indignant at 
such waste of time. 

“ You must look at the tree ! ” she admon- 
ished her. “ That is the thing to look at 


now. 


1 1 1 


ENTER JINNT 

Jinny looked at it obediently enough, and 
dwelt on it in approval for a space, but soon 
her eyes roved again all about the beautiful 
room. 

“ Do you live here every day ? " she asked, 
with a little catch in her voice. 

“ Why, of course/' said Beth Anne, in 
astonishment. 44 Why shouldn't we, — it's our 
home." 

The other girl made a strange little sound 
in her throat. 

“ It's — it's all so — so — diff’runt ! " she mur- 
mured, and, to Beth Anne's distress and 
David's embarrassment, two big tears rolk-i 
down her cheeks. 

Beth Anne flung her arms about her, her 
own eyes wet though she didn't know why. 
“Don't do that!" she begged. “Don't feel 
bad, please. We have some lovely presents 
for you, right here beside the settee." 

“ Come on and look at 'em," urged David, 
gruff with sympathy. “I bet you’ll like 
them." 


1 1 2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


The tears were dashed away rather shame- 
facedly, and the three were soon laughing 
and chattering over the liberal pile of gifts 
that had been gathered together for Jinny. 

“ Don’t you love sachet?” asked Beth 
Anne, plunging her puggy nose deep into 
the soft pink silk that had been intended for 
Mary Hunt. “ I have it in everything I can 
put it in, don't you ? ” 

Jinny, with a laugh, shook her head. “ I 
ain't never had any,” she declared. “ I never 
smelt none till now. But I’m stuck on it, all 
right. I think it's just grand.” 

“ It’s all right for girls,” said David, who 
had a hankering for sweet odors to which he 
would not own. “ Girls like truck like that.” 

“ Indeed ! ” cried Beth Anne, who had a 
keen memory. “ Who bought that big bottle 
of violet extract and kept it in the rabbit 
hutch last summer ? ” 

He reddened guiltily. “ Well,” he parried, 
“ you used it up, quick enough, after you 
found it, didn't you ? ” 


ENTER JINNT 1 13 

“ Yes, I did ! ” she said, rapturously. “ And 
it was perfectly, heavenly sweet. I wish 
you'd get another and I could steal it again." 

He laughed. “ I'll get one for each of 
you," he promised, “ and then you won't try 
to swipe mine." 

“ Ah ha ! " cried Beth Anne merrily, point- 
ing an accusing finger. “ He has some now, 
Jinny. And he calls our sachet truck ! " and 
they went off into peals of laughter, David 
enjoying it as much as the other two. 

Mr. and Mrs. Burton, listening to the happy 
voices, smiled at one another. 

“ She seems to show up pretty well on close 
sight," commented Mr. Burton. “ Her peo- 
ple are the toughest possible, and I must con- 
fess that I did not half like her visiting Beth 
Anne even for a day." 

“ Poor child, she seemed actually stabbed by 
the beauty of it," said Mrs. Burton, tenderly. 
“ Where did she get the soul to see charm in 
pictures as well as in the Christmas things, — 
which of course would appeal to any child." 


1 14 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ That is the point,” mused her husband. 
“ If she were like the fellow who says he is 
her father, the ‘ dif ’runce,’ as she calls it, 
would make her only surly or impudent. She 
has their speech, of course, but it does not 
seem to go much more deeply than that.” 

“ She is a remarkable little thing, I think,” 
declared Mrs. Burton. “ I never saw such 
eyes ! She must be like her mother, who you 
say is dead.” 

“ Perhaps,” he responded. “ Or it may be 
some far-off ancestor, whose virtues have 
passed down the generations to this small 
scrap of a Jinny,' who appears to be a street 
urchin, but may be a great author or painter 
or actress in the germ.” 

She laughed at his earnestness. “ Don’t 
you think you are going ahead a little too 
rapidly ? She may be only a very common- 
place child, whose wonderful eyes make her 
seem more intelligent than she really is.” 
She stopped with another little laugh at her 
own expense. “ I don’t believe that at all, 


ENTER JINNT 115 

Ted,” she confessed. “ I like her so much 
myself that I’m afraid to be too hopeful. I’d 
hate to be disappointed.” 

“ You won't be,” he prophesied, still 
thoughtfully watching the group that flut- 
tered occasionally into sight as the children 
moved about the sitting-room in their play. 
“ I am going to have a try at painting her. 
She is just the type I have been wanting for 
that little figure in the second panel of the 
Rodney Library series.” 

Jinny, meanwhile, wholly unconscious that 
she was being weighed in the critical balances 
of the adorable Beth Anne's father and mother, 
moved about in a trance of delight. The glit- 
tering tree and the lavish gifts impressed her 
less than the luxurious rooms with their 
graceful furnishings. 

“I never seen such soft things,” she con- 
fided to Beth Anne as she slipped her foot 
over the deep velvet rug. “ And them things 
in the door, too. They're soft like a baby 
kitten I had onct, — but it got fits and died.” 


1 1 6 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


Beth Anne found more novelty in the 
kitten than in the portieres. 

“ What made it have fits ? ” she inquired, 
sitting down in the midst of her gifts and 
rocking eagerly on her crossed legs. 

Jinny answered absently, her slender fingers 
caressing the silky curtain. “ I don’t know. 
I took good care of her. I gave her all the 
cake and meat I had, and I took her out 
twict a day. I had to keep her in the cup- 
board in my room, so they wouldn’t know. 
But it was a big cupboard. And she was 
very little.” 

“ So who wouldn’t know ? ” asked David 
carefully. 

Jinny came back to the realities of her life. 
She frowned and sighed a little. “ Oh, just 
Steve, and Mis’ Dailey. You saw her, you 
know.” 

Beth Anne shivered at the memory of the 
woman among the shadows of Harvey Street. 

“ Is she always like that?” she asked, un- 
consciously slipping her hand into David’s. 


ENTER JINNT 117 

Jinny retreated into her reserve again. 
“She’s Steve’s mother,” she said, vaguely. 
“ She takes care of Hudson’s Buildings, when 
she’s well.” 

This announcement made a distinct im- 
pression. 

Beth Anne had visions of a dignified house- 
keeper in black silk, while David was im- 
pressed with the novel idea of a female night 
watchman. They spoke at once, enthusiastic- 
ally casting aside their former bad opinion of 
Mrs. Dailey. 

“ No wonder she’s cross, if she’s sick and 
can’t do it ! ” they cried, compassionately. 

“ Does one of the maids take her place when 
she is sick ? ” asked Beth Anne. 

“ I’ll bet she has a pistol, and billy, too ! ” 
volunteered David, admiringly. 

Jinny looked at them in surprise. “ Why ! ” 
she said, hesitating. “ Why — she just scrubs, 
you know.” 

Beth Anne and David gasped. They were 
too polite to hurt Jinny’s feelings by saying 


1 1 8 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


anything out loud, but their thoughts were 
turning somersaults. David was the first to 
speak. 

“ Come on and have a game of something 
before we have to get ready for dinner,” he 
said to Jinny, with that suspicion of gruffness 
that always came into his voice when he felt 
sorry for any one. 

“ Bother games ! ” cried Beth Anne, quickly 
recovering herself. “ I wouldn’t waste time 
on Christmas morning playing stupid old 
games you can have any time. Let’s talk. 
You sit there, Jinny, and you there, Debe, 
and we’ll tell each other all about ourselves. 
It’s your turn first, Jinny, because you’re the 
guest.” 

“Guest!” mimicked David, winking at 
Jinny. “ I guess you think you’ll find out 
a lot, Miss Pry. Don’t you tell her a thing, 
Jinny.” 

“ Then I’ll begin,” said Beth Anne 
promptly, glad of the opportunity to hold 
the center of the stage. “ You don’t have 


ENTER JINNT 119 

to listen if you don’t want to, David. You 
know it all, anyway.” 

“ Don’t fear,” he said grinning. “ I’ll keep 
tabs on you. You might tell Jinny a lot 
of stuff. Hark ! There’s Aunt Carol call- 
ing ! You’ll have to postpone your me- 
moirs, Bets, till after we’re scrubbed. Bet 
I’ll be done first,” and he disappeared with a 
siren shriek. 

They hurried up-stairs, Jinny holding 
tightly to Beth Anne’s hand. On the thresh- 
old of the bedroom she paused, catching her 
breath. 

“ Oh ! ” she cried. “ Ain’t it rosy ! It’s like 
Bowerses’ greenhouses, only it’s prettier.” 

“ I love roses. That’s why I have them all 
over the curtains and paper and covers,” de- 
clared Beth Anne, tossing her head. “ I’d 
hate to sleep in a room that didn’t have 
flowers in it. My other room is all blue, you 
see,” and she flung open the door to a tiny 
forget-me-not blue nook. “ This is my 
study,” she said, magnificently. 


120 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


Jinny was duly impressed. “ My I Ain’t 
it grand I ” was all she found breath for. 

They washed and brushed in a flutter of 
excited intimacy, and they came down-stairs 
with their arms about each other’s waists, 
after the fashion of little girls of all times. 

David was waiting on the hearth-rug in the 
hall, his hair very smooth, his cheeks very 
rosy. 

“ Gee, but you are pokes,” he said casually. 
“ Dinner’s half over.” 

Beth Anne, cast a swift glance toward the 
dining-room, and then turned to the library 
door where Mr. and Mrs. Burton stood smil- 
ing at them. 

“ We’re just in time!” she exclaimed. 
“ Oh, Mother, may I go in last? ” 

Mrs. Burton laughed her consent, and they 
started. 

“ What are you up to, kid?” called back 
David over his shoulder, as Beth Anne lagged 
far behind. 

“ Nothing ! ” she replied, contemptuous of 


I 2 I 


ENTER JINNT 

his levity. “ I only wanted to remember just 
how it looked, so that I could write a splendid 
description of it in my diary.” 

He rolled up his eyes. “ Please put me in 
on the front row, Miss Authoress,” he mocked, 
but Beth Anne did not notice him. She was 
looking with surprise at Jinny, who stood 
transfixed, gazing with marveling eyes at the 
table, where holly and flaming poinsettias 
shone in the candle-light amidst the sparkle 
and twinkle of glass and silver, and gay 
favors and pretty name cards set off each plate. 

“ Why, it's all real ! ” she whispered in 
amazement. 

David chuckled. “ You bet it is, or we 
wouldn’t be here.” 

Beth Anne frowned at him. “ Of course, 
it’s lovely, and I’m glad Jinny likes it.” 

“ So am I,” added Mrs. Burton, kindly. 
“ I spent a lot of time on it and I expect every 
one to go into raptures over it.” 

“ I feel very rapturous, even though I 
haven’t said much yet,” said Mr. Burton, 


122 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


examining the carving knife. “ Wait till 
later on. I don’t like to mix my raptures 
with anything so commonplace as mere food.” 

“ Mere food, indeed ! ” said Mrs. Burton. 

There was no commonplace food, — the 
spirit of the season had touched and changed 
it. The turkey was a celestial bird, ready 
to crack his brown skin and soar away 
through the odorous cloud that hung above 
him as the smiling George bore him in triumph 
to the head of the table. The jellies and 
sauces quivered and shone like delicious jewels 
and the vegetables outdid themselves in size 
and flavor, as though grown with a special 
dressing of good cheer. The puddings and 
fruits made a gorgeous medley of color, — rosy 
apple, golden pear and purple grape glowing 
and blushing in the candle-light like Aladdin’s 
magic fruit, while the ices in the shape of little 
Kriss Kringles seemed to beg to be dispatched 
quickly lest in melting they should lose their 
jolly shape and become mere prosy liquid. 
And then there were nuts and candies, spark- 


ENTER JINNT 123 

ling ginger and delicate wafers and spicy 
cheese, and with it all, such a babel of happi- 
ness, such ripples of mirth and gay flashes of 
speech that the whole feast was a radiant 
chapter of the story of Christmas jollity. 

And when at last the steaming urn poured 
its golden fragrance into the tiny pink cups, 
and Mr. Burton, standing, proposed : “ To the 
Christmas season : May we see many of them, 
and may each bring us better things,” there 
was such a chorus of hearty good-will that 
the spirit which presides over such gatherings 
must have glowed with pride and joy among 
its mistletoe. 

Beth Anne whispered to her mother, a little 
reproachfully, “ But we couldn’t have better 
things.” 

Her mother smiled. “ We might have 
better hearts and better hopes, might we not ? ” 

She flashed back a look of comprehension, 
swiftly picturing for herself a long year of 
none but noble deeds, — fit record for the 
precious new diary. 


124 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ And now for the illumination," and Mrs. 
Burton rose, and slipping her arm through 
her husband's, led the way to the sitting- 
room, where the tree was barely discernible 
in the twilight. 

“We always have the tree lighted just by 
ourselves after dinner," explained Beth Anne 
to Jinny, wriggling in between the other two 
on the sofa. “ Mother says it is too danger- 
ous, when other people are here." 

“ Shut your eyes ! " commanded David, as 
Mr. Burton took out his match-safe. 

They almost pushed their eyes into their 
heads in their determination not to peep. 

“ Open sesame ! " called Mr. Burton, and the 
three pairs flew open wide, and three very 
round “ Oh's " burst from the trio. 

The many gas lights on the big chandelier 
were burning low, while a great electric 
burner, backed by its bright reflector, blazed 
at the top, throwing the strongest light full 
on the tree, while the room was left in half 
darkness, to accent the spectacle. 


ENTER JINNT 125 

There it stood, twinkling and scintillating 
at every point, with a hundred tiny stars on 
its green tips, luminous fairies dancing on 
every branch and strings of shining balls 
twirling and pulsing in festooned splendor. 

Mrs. Burton smiled down at her small 
daughter, and both knew they were remem- 
bering the years of growth in the great north- 
ern forest. 

“ It would not be here, — all glorified and 
radiant, if it had not grown straight,” she 
said, softly, and Beth Anne made another 
swift resolve, which she hardly knew how to 
word but which had something to do with 
that noble record of her own growth, to be set 
forth duly in the fat red diary. 

“ Now for the real Christmas tree ! ” said 
Mr. Burton, striking the first match. 

“ Do be careful, Ted,” urged his wife. “ I 
am always so afraid of those candles.” 

“ My dear Carol, a tree would not be a real 
tree for me without candles on Christmas day. 
Beside, we blow them out before any harm 


126 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


can be done,” and he touched the match to 
the first candle. 

One after another the tiny points caught 
and leaped into life until the whole tree was 
luminous, not with reflected light, but with 
its own glory. 

“ It is beautiful,” acknowledged Mrs. Burton. 
“ Nothing can be so pretty as the candles, after 
all.” 

Mr. Burton stepped back for a complacent 
look. “ We will let them burn for five min- 
utes, and then put them out, so that the 

youngsters may riot in safety What is 

it, George ? Some one to see me ? ” 

George, beaming at the illumination, could 
scarcely answer sedately : “ Yes, sir. Mr. Hand 
at the do’. Jest wants to see you fer a minute.” 

Mr. Burton went out, saying, “ Don’t budge 
till I come back, Beth Anne. I’ll be back in 
two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” but from the 
front door he called, “ Oh, Carol ! Come here 
a moment,” and Mrs. Burton ran lightly after 
him. 


ENTER JINNT 127 

Beth Anne drew closer to the tree. 
“ Doesn’t it look lovely ? ” she said fervently. 

“ Uh-huh,” responded David, gazing up at 
the twinkling splendor, hands deep in his 
pockets. “ Which fairy do you like best ? ” 

“ That one next to the big ball,” she said, 
promptly. 

“ Huh ! She’s not half so pretty as the 
pink one. She has red hair.” 

“ Oh, not that fright ! ” she cried, forgetting 
in her impatience her father’s commands. 
“ The blue one with spangles, — don’t you see 
her ? ” and seizing the ramrod of the new 
gun, which was lying near on the floor, she 
tiptoed to point it out to him. 

She had to stretch high to reach it, and she 
gave it a harder pat than she intended. Down 
it came, — a tiny, gauzy meteor, shooting 
straight through the candle flame, and 
plumped right down on Beth Anne’s neck. 


CHAPTER VII 


ANOTHEK KESCUE 

In a flash, before Beth Anne’s scream was 
fairly out or David could move, Jinny sprang 
for the flaming scrap of tinsel, tearing it off 
and flinging it on the floor, where David 
stamped it to ashes in a moment. 

It had taken only the fraction of a second to 
drop through Jinny’s hands, but it left a 
creeping line of fire on the flimsy cotton 
sleeve, — a line that flashed into flame and 
leaped upward hungrily as Jinny put out her 
hands to reassure the terrified Beth Anne. 

She saw her danger, and sprang away from 
the others, holding her hands high above her. 
A mad desire to get away, and out into the 
crisp air, drove her swiftly to the door just as 
Mr. Burton rushed into the room. 

“ Stop ! ” he called, catching her dress. 

128 


ANOTHER RESCUE 129 

He lost no time in words. With frantic 
haste he tore a rug from the floor, scattering 
David’s games and books in every direction, 
and flung it about her, crushing out the fire 
before it could reach her face or hair, and al- 
though he could not wholly save her from the 
searing flames, he stayed them before they had 
done her serious injury. 

Lifting her to her feet again, he put a 
steadying arm about her as he unwrapped the 
rug and examined the burns. Jinny tried to 
smile at him, but grew very white and piteous 
as he gently made his scrutiny. 

11 Poor little girl,” he said tenderly, putting 
back the charred sleeve from the right arm, 
which was red to the elbow. “ That is pretty 
badly blistered. It hurts a lot, doesn’t it? ” 

Jinny could not speak. She bit her lips to 
keep back the tears and shook her head 
bravely, while Beth Anne and David, who had 
stood stunned and motionless, shuddered at 
the sight of the seared flesh. 

Mrs. Burton, who had been swiftly putting 


i 3 o BETH ANNE HERSELF 

out the destructive caudles, came to Mr. 
Burton’s aid with olive oil and a large soft 
napkin snatched from the dining-room. 

“ Put on the oil and bandage it, Ted, while 
I call Dr. Strong,” she said. “ Mr. Burton 
knows just how to do it, dear,” she added to 
Jinny. “ He won’t hurt you half as much as 
I should,” and with another pitying touch, 
she disappeared to call the doctor. 

She came back just as Mr. Burton, after 
deftly bathing and bandaging the burnt arm, 
was cutting away the charred remnant of the 
sleeve that had worked such havoc. She 
noticed the two children who were watching 
with frightened faces and in absolute silence, 
and she saw that Beth Anne’s vivid face wore 
an expression of acute pain, while her hand 
was clasped dramatically to the side of her 
neck, where the little spot that the fairy had 
touched burned and stung. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, Beth Anne,” she said, 
reassuringly. “ The burns are not deep, 
though they are very painful. And the oil is 


ANOTHER RESCUE 131 

making the poor arm feel better already, isn’t 
it, Jinny ? ” 

Jinny, brightening as the oil soothed the 
anguish, rose to her feet. 

“ It’s a lot better,” she declared. 

Beth Anne’s pained expression did not 
relax. It intensified instead into tragedy. 
The spot on her own neck might be worse 
than Jinny’s injuries, after all. It was pain- 
ing her horribly now, and she gave vent to a. 
wail of misery, ignoring Jinny in her own 
woes. 

“ I need something done, too. My neck 
hurts so ! ” she lamented. “ It’s all burnt I 
That horrid old fairy fell right on me. I 
only touched it with the rod, and it fell 
down on my neck ! ” 

“ And Jinny grabbed it off like lightning, 
and I stamped it out on the floor ! ” added 
David, kindling with the memory of it. 

Mrs. Burton turned to Beth Anne, surprise 
and alarm in her gentle face. “ You should 
have told us you were burnt, darling,” she 


132 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

began, drawing her tenderly to her, but Beth 
Anne, pleased to find herself the center of at- 
traction, wriggled away, and stood posed in a 
tragic attitude, her hand still over the spot, 
and her head twisted mournfully aslant to 
note the effect on her audience. 

“ It feels as if it were burning right through 
to my windpipe,” she said, dejectedly. 

Mrs. Burton gave a gasp of dismay, but Mr. 
Burton, less affected by his daughter’s trage- 
dies, said, rather peremptorily : 

“ Take your hand down, Beth Anne, and let 
us see it.” 

Beth Anne, going to the long mirror to en- 
joy the sight herself, slowly removed the tense 
fingers, disclosing a tiny red spot on the side 
of her neck just above the line of her dress. 

There was a moment of silence, — a silence 
that was not very comfortable to Beth Anne, 
and then her mother said, quietly : 

“ I am rather ashamed of you, Beth Anne, 
that you should alarm us about a trifling thing 
like that.” 


ANOTHER RESCUE 133 

“ Tell us how it happened,” said her father 
sternly. 

Beth Anne caught her breath. In a flash, 
as in a mental mirror, she saw Jinny’s bravery 
and her own pretensions side by side, and she 
hated the selfishness and jealousy that made 
her play so poor a part. 

“ I did it ! ” she declared, vigorously. “ I 
hit the fairy with the rod, and it tumbled 
down on my neck.” 

Mrs. Burton shook her head sadly. “ And 
we were not out of the room five minutes I 
Jinny might have burned to death, if your 
father had not been quick.” 

The implied reproach was too much for Beth 
Anne’s virtuous impulses. They died within 
her, and a great pity for herself took their 
place. 

“ I might have died, too,” she murmured, 
faintly, hanging her head so as to make the 
most of her injuries. 

But for once, she got scant sympathy. “ You 
might, indeed, if Jinny had not been there. 


i 3 4 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

This is the second time she has saved you in 
two days, and she is no larger than you.” 

The arrival of the doctor cut them short. 
He was quite cheerful about the burnt arm, 
much to David’s resentment and Beth Anne’s 
relief, saying confidently that the pain would 
soon be eased by the dressing he had applied, 
and that the heroine, as he called her, would 
be able in a few days to use her arm again. 

“ You will be able to cut your New Year’s 
turkey for yourself,” he laughed, as he hurried 
off to his own belated dinner. 

The same thought was in all their minds, 
but it was Beth Anne who voiced it. Her sud- 
den jealousy of Jinny was gone and she was 
her own lovable self again. 

“ You won’t be here at New Year,” she said 
mournfully. 

Mrs. Burton looked at her husband, and 
then said, smiling, “ Perhaps she might stay 
till she is well. That is, if she would like to.” 

Jinny’s great eyes filled with light, then 
clouded. 


ANOTHER RESCUE 135 

“ They wouldn’t let me,” she said, her voice 
harsh with the memory of past privations. 
“ I do the cookin’ now.” 

“ But you could not cook with that arm ! ” 
cried Mrs. Burton. “ You should not go near 
the fire for a week.” 

“ Suppose I go down and see them again,” 
suggested Mr. Burton. “ I will tell them we 
can take good care of you. Probably they 
might even prefer that you should be here, 
while you are out of commission as cook, and 
under the doctor’s care.” 

Jinny smiled a beatific smile, while Beth 
Anne clapped her hands and hopped up and 
down, crying : 

“ Now we shall have fun ! Please go right 
away, Popsy dear. Oh, I’m so glad that hate- 
ful fairy fell down ! ” 

A glance from her mother quelled her soar- 
ing spirits for a moment, but they rose again 
at the next words. 

“ That is a good idea, Ted. They will be 
expecting her soon, and you will about have 


136 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

time enough for it before the people will be 
getting here for the party.” 

Mr. Burton rose briskly. “ I’ll go at once, 
and fix it up with them. How long shall I 
say we want her, Carol ? ” 

“ Until after New Year’s day,” replied his 
wife, smiling at the elated children. “ And, 
if she is not entirely well then, we can arrange 
for a day or so longer.” 

“ Oh, how rapturelous ! ” broke from the 
irrepressible Beth Anne, who was counting 
swiftly on her fingers. “ A whole week, 
Jinny ! And, maybe,” she added, hopefully, 
“ maybe you won’t get well for a long, long 
time.” 

“ Not right well,” amended David, “just 
nearly well, — so it doesn’t hurt you, you 
know.” 

“ Well, I’m off,” said Mr. Burton, pulling 
into his overcoat. 

“ Good-bye, and good luck ! ” called Mrs. 
Burton, as he closed the door. “ Now, Jinny 
must have some rest. You and David may 


ANOTHER RESCUE 137 

go over to Gregors' to see the tree, while 
she curls up here on the couch in the li- 
brary." 

Beth Anne seized Jinny’s free hand. 
“ You’ll stay up for the party, won’t you ? 
I’d just hate it all if you didn’t.’’ 

Jinny smiled gratefully. “ I ain’t tired,’’ 
she protested gently. 

“ Let me stay with her,’’ Beth Anne en- 
treated. “ David can go to Gregors’ by him- 
self, can’t you, David?’’ 

“ Sure,’’ he replied easily. “ It’s only across 
the street.’’ 

Mrs. Burton looked doubtful. “ I am afraid 
you will talk too much.’’ 

Jinny promised eagerly. “ I won’t talk 
none, if you say so. I ain’t tired, and my 
arm don’t hurt hardly none at all.’’ 

Mrs. Burton gave a relieved laugh. “ Well, 
if you feel that way about it,’’ she said, “ I 
suppose I may say yes. Run along, David. 
You two chicks stay here until you hear me 
call." 


138 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

As Mrs. Barton left the room Beth Anne 
cuddled down beside Jinny on the couch. 
“ Now, I’ll tell you all about the party, so you 
won’t have to talk,” she said complacently. 

Jinny, with a little sigh of content, had 
settled down in her corner. 

Beth Anne went on happily : “ Father says 
any one who can’t be young at Christmas time 
isn’t worth an invitation. So every one who 
comes to our party is jolly.” 

“ Are there many of ’em?” asked Jinny, 
timidly. 

“ Let me see,” said Beth Anne, slowly 
counting on her fingers. “ Mary Stone and 
her father, — she’s awfully nice, and she is 
very young, mother says, to be such a good 
teacher. Then there’s — let’s see — Helen and 
Tom, four — Mr. and Mrs. Gregor and Laura 
and Jim Roland. That is nine, and all of us 
makes — makes fifteen, doesn’t it?” 

“ Fourteen,” amended Jinny, fearful of 
offense. 

“ It’s all the same,” responded Beth Anne, 


ANOTHER RESCUE 139 

easily. “ They are all perfectly sweet. I 
wish ” 

A clear call interrupted her. 

“ Come on. It’s Mother calling,” she said, 
jumping up. 

Jinny followed her up-stairs with a new 
joy surging through her heart. Already the 
“ dif ’runce 77 she had felt so keenly in the 
morning was growing less. She was to be 
one of them for to-night at least, and perhaps 
for a whole blissful week. Carter Street could 
never be so desolate and hopeless after this. 

Mrs. Burton was waiting for them on the 
threshold of Beth Anne’s flowery room. 

“ Your things are on the couch, Beth 
Anne,” she said smiling. “ Jinny’s are here 
on the bed. See how you like them.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 

Jinny could not believe that she was not 
dreaming when she saw what lay on Beth 
Anne’s bed. 

The filmy dress, with its dainty accessories, 
— yellow satin ribbons, white slippers and all, 
— were so far beyond her wildest dreams that 
she could find no words big enough for her 
feelings and could only stand in a trance of 
delight feasting her eyes on the laces and em- 
broideries saying never a word. 

“Now Beth Anne,” said her mother, 
“ Jinny is tired and must get dressed quickly, 
so leave her in peace, or I shall have to make 
her stay up-stairs half the evening.” 

This terrible threat had good effect, for 
Beth Anne flew off to her own side of the 
room, and began silently to array herself, 

140 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 141 

casting only an occasional glance across the 
room. 

Jinny allowed herself to be dressed by Mrs. 
Burton’s careful hands, and did not even offer 
to help pull on the little white pumps, or ad- 
just the lacy skirts about her slender waist, 
but stood like a little lay-figure through it all. 

When Mrs. Burton finished her work and 
led her, silent but radiant, to the long mirror, 
she fairly gasped at the reflection she saw 
there. 

In the filmy white dress, her dark waving 
hair caught back under a wide band of soft 
yellow satin, a delicate scarf covering the in- 
jured arm, she looked a far different creature 
from the shabby little girl who had danced in 
the snow before the dingy house in Carter 
Street only the day before. 

“ Oh, you look just lovely!” cried Beth 
Anne, with another one of her wild hugs. 
“ You’re the beautifullest thing ! ” 

Jinny turned pale and Mrs. Burton cried 
out in alarm. 


i 4 2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Beth Anne was overwhelmed with swift 
contrition. “ Oh, I’m so sorry, — I forgot. 
You looked so sweet, I just couldn’t help 
it.” 

Jinny winked back the tears, smiling 
brightly. “ I don’t mind,” she said, truth- 
fully enough, for the joy of such unusual 
praise more than made up for the pain. 

Beth Anne thought her very brave, and 
she adored courage, particularly of the spec- 
tacular sort. With her aptitude for dramatiz- 
ing the small incidents in her daily life, she 
instantly flung herself into the part of the 
generous companion to the heroine. 

“ I’ve always wanted a sister like you, 
Jinny dear,” she said sentimentally. “ But 
I never found any one just right till now.” 

Jinny stretched out a timid hand and 
touched her cheek. “ I ain’t nothin’,” she 
said, deprecatingly. “ I wisht I was more like 
you.” 

This sensible point of view pleased Beth 
Anne immensely, but she did not care to show 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 143 

it. “ Let’s see how tall we are,” she said, ab- 
ruptly changing the subject, and pulling 
Jinny to the mirror again. 

Mrs. Burton smiled at the picture they 
made, — Beth Anne’s bright face and mass of 
curly gold beside Jinny’s dark mist of soft 
hair framing the white slender face and great 
burning eyes. 

“ Now run down, chicks, and keep quiet. 
It is almost time for David to be back with 
the Gregors.” 

Jinny was scarcely settled in her corner of 
the sitting-room sofa when there was a sound 
of running feet and laughter; the front door 
was flung open, and David, followed by Helen 
and Tom, came rushing in. 

Beth Anne squealed with delight, and 
dragged Helen over to Jinny’s sofa. 

“ This is Jinny Randolph, and she got her 
arm all burnt, but it’s wrapped up so that 
you don’t notice ” 

“ I know,” interrupted Helen. “ David 
told us all about it. That’s why we didn’t 


i 4 4 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

wait for Father and Mother. We just raced, 
and Tom ran all the way. 7 7 

Tom gazed sheepishly at the ceiling. 
“ Pooh ! I wasn’t in a hurry, only I needed 
exercise after dinner,” he said stiffly. 

Jinny, unused to such prominence, grew 
very shy and would hardly open her lips, but 
Beth Anne and David, doubly proud of their 
rescuer in her pretty clothes, did duty for her, 
answering the questions put by Helen and 
Tom with very different sort of answers than 
Jinny might have given. 

Beth Anne forgot her own poor part in the 
fire episode, and in the excitement of showing 
off her new possession, reveled in thrilling 
word pictures of Jinny as a blazing martyr, 
until Helen manifested some surprise that 
Jinny should be able to sit up for the party. 

“ Oh, she has to be dreadfully quiet,” 
explained Beth Anne, shaking her head. 
“ Mother says she may faint at any time, if 
she gets joggled, so we’ll have to be very ex- 
actular about touching her.” 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 145 

The rest of the company came soon after 
and they all adjourned to the sitting-room 
where the games were to be played. Jinny 
was placed in one corner of the wide daven- 
port and cautioned a hundred times not to get 
too tired. 

Mr. Burton came in after all the rest and 
motioned to his wife to join him in the hall. 

“ It's all right, Carol/ 7 he said, cheerily. 
“ Come up while I dress, and I’ll tell you all 
about it.” 

She followed him up to his room, and as he 
hurriedly changed, he told her much about 
his brief visit. He had seen Steve Daley 
again, and had gradually, by promises first 
and then threats, secured permission to keep 
Jinny for the week. 

“ I had to pay pretty well/ 7 he confessed, as 
he brushed vigorously. “ They evidently 
work the life out of that poor child. The 
woman is not good for much, and everything 
to be done in the house falls on Jinny’s thin 
little shoulders, it seems.” 


146 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

44 What sort of place is it, Ted ? ” asked Mrs. 
Burton. 

He described the squalid house, sparing no 
detail of the sordid life there, and ended with 
an account of Steve that made his wife shud- 
der. 

“ What a life I Poor chick ! ” she said, 
softly. “ I can hear her now, saying, 4 It’s so — 
so — dif’runt. 1 ” 

44 He confessed that the child was no con- 
nection of theirs. Her mother died when she 
was a wee baby, and the Daley woman, who 
was a sort of maid, took her in the hope that 
some profit might come of her undiscovered 
relatives. But nothing has ever turned up, 
and Jinny is too helpful to them now for them 
to care to lose her.” 

44 Did you see her with her party clothes 
on?” she asked. 44 What did you think of 
her ? ” 

He paused in the fastening of his collar. 
44 She’s going to be a stunner when she loses 
that hunted look,” he declared, emphatically. 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 147 

“ And in the meanwhile I must get that panel 
rushed through, or she’ll outgrow it before I 
finish.” 

The music of the Sir Roger de Coverly was 
beginning as they reached the sitting-room, 
and there was just time for a hurried word to 
Jinny before they took their places. 

“ It’s all right. You are to stay,” Mr. Bur- 
ton said crisply. “ Steve is going to get Mrs. 
Flannigan to do the work and to take Mrs. 
Daley’s place at Hudsons’ if she is sick. You 
are to stay until you are able to handle a fry- 
ing-pan again.” 

“ Thanks,” murmured Jinny overcome with 
gratitude and shyness, using the only form of 
gratitude she had known. 

She sat radiant in her corner amidst the 
gaiety and good-will of this wonderful Christ- 
mas season, while they played Blind-man’s- 
buff about her and made her sofa a base for 
Hide-and-Seek, and she gurgled with subdued 
mirth at their flurried rushes from hiding 
place to base. When the piano started again 


148 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

for “ Going to Jerusalem,” she could hardly 
keep her feet still, the music was so lively, so 
much better than any she had known ; for 
Mary Stone could make the keys sing, and 
she kept them going in double quick time. 

As one by one dropped out they clustered 
about Jinny’s sofa, and when the piano stopped 
with a crash, leaving Beth Anne, flushed and 
disheveled, sitting in triumphant state, they 
started “ Forfeits ” just that Jinny might take 
part in it. 

When all had paid their forfeits, and “ Earth, 
Air, and Water ” had been exhausted, they 
played “ Flower Basket ” until even Beth 
Anne was ready to rest. 

“ How do you like it ? ” she whispered back 
to Jinny, who was just behind her in the 
march to the dining-room. “ Aren’t we hav- 
ing a gorgeous time? ” 

Jinny nodded, her face glowing, but had no 
chance for words. In the dining-room the 
merriment grew each minute. Mistletoe 
peeped from the most unexpected places, and 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 149 

one was not safe in carrying a plate across the 
room, or handing a cup to some one near by, 
without being in danger of finding that a green 
branch was directly overhead, and hearing a 
shout of laughter as the mistletoe was dis- 
covered. 

Beth Anne and David were busy catching 
Mr. Stone and Mary at every opportunity, and 
shouting warnings to others, until at last Mr. 
Burton brought them to order. 

“ Beth Anne, you are upsetting your ice- 
cream, n he cautioned. “ And you know the 
rule, David, — no fair catching the same person 
twice. If you two don't calm down a bit, you 
won't be hi shape for what is coming." 

This hint of something mysterious had its 
effect, and the two subdued their riotous spirits 
to the level of the others, turning their atten- 
tion to the good things before them. 

There was fruit cake and sponge cake, and 
ice-cream : there were candies and salted nuts 
and crystallized mints : there were favors in 
every known form, crackers and confetti 


150 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

bombs : and, crowning all, a great frosted 
cake, which turned out to be no cake at all, 
but a box, filled with tiny red stockings, in 
each of which was a pretty stick-pin and a 
small roll of white paper tied with a red cord 
on which dangled a little red pencil. 

After the clamor of pleased surprise sub- 
sided Mr. Burton rose. 

“ The pencil and paper,” said he, “ are for 
each to write a Christmas speech, right here at 
the table. When we have finished, we will read 
them aloud, before we leave the festal board.” 

There were some groans and protests at this. 
“I can't write a speech to save my neck,” 
said Mary Stone, emphatically. “ Everything 
I think of seems so flat.” 

“ Oh, you don't have to care about that,” 
said Beth Anne airily, before any could 
speak. “ Any stuff sounds good enough, when 
you say it with candles and flowers and 
confetti. But,” wagging her head, “ I don't 
have a bit of trouble. I can think of lots of 
good things.” 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 151 

“ She’s stuck on herself, all right, isn’t 
she ? ” observed David, composedly. 

Beth Anne quietly turned a superior eye 
upon him, and then began to scribble, 
oblivious of his presence, while he, forced to 
silence by a warning “ S-sh ” from Mary, took 
up his own sheet, and, with his tongue between 
his teeth and his face very red, laboriously 
wrote a few sentences. 

Beth Anne finished before any one else, and 
was on her feet at once. Her affectation was 
forgotten, and her face was earnest and her 
voice clear and sweet as at her father’s nod of 
permission she spoke. 

“ Christmas is the very best time of all the 
year. And I think it is because there are so 
many people to love (even though Grand- 
mother and Cousin Lucia are away),” she 
interpolated hastily. “ So many people to 
love,” she resumed. “ And every one feels 
kind and good to the poor, and doesn’t want 
to be cross or selfish. Mother says that this 
is a good verse for every one. 


i 5 2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

u L The heart that dwells in love and mirth 
And deeds of gentle cheer 
Brings Christmas to the waiting earth 
Through all the joyful year. 7 Amen.” 

David snickered at the “ amen,” but Beth 
Anne, promptly turning very human, curled 
her puggy nose at him so severely that he 
was glad to turn his attention to his own 
labored sheet. 

Mrs. Burton, who was next, was a great 
success ; Mary Stone, in spite of her forebod- 
ings, was very jolly and amusing ; Mr. 
Gregor made them rather serious with his 
picture of the homeless thousands that were 
even now wandering hungry and forlorn 
through the frosty Christmas night ; Laura 
and the others went through the little cere- 
mony as gracefully as possible, while Mr. 
Burton and Mr. Stone made quite an orator- 
ical display. 

At last, only David and Jinny were left. 

David got on his feet, and with many false 
starts and splutterings, delivered himself of 
his. 


THE CHRISTMAS PARTY 153 

“ I think this is the very best Christmas 
ever. Christmas is a dandy holiday. And I 
wish you all a happy New Year. And I hope 
we’ll all be here next Christmas, for I’d 
rather be here than any place on earth.’ 7 

“ Encore I ” cried Mary Stone, clapping her 
hands. And then they all joined in, and 
thumped on the table and applauded till 
David was as red as the holly berries. 

“ I would, honest,” he grinned, plumping 
down in his seat beside Beth Anne. 

It was Jinny’s turn. 

She had a moment of blurred vision, as 
Mrs. Burton gently motioned her to rise. 
The kindly faces swam in a rosy haze for a 
second and then steadied, as she rose, forget- 
ful of the paper she had vainly tried to fill. 

She forgot her fear of being laughed at, for- 
got to be conscious or awkward. She stood 
with her eyes shining, the color rising in her 
thin cheeks, — a vivid incarnation of what the 
loving-kindness of the season had wrought. 

“ Onct I read a story like this,” she began 


154 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

in a quiet voice, looking straight into Mrs. 
Burton’s eyes across the table. “ And I al- 
ways knowed there was a beauty place some- 
wheres, but I never thought I’d get in — I 
drumpt about it once, too — but this is better. 

It’s better’ll — it’s better’n Oh, it’s just 

like heaven ! ” 

Beth Anne did not see why her mother’s 
eyes should fill, nor why Mary Stone should 
slip an arm about Jinny, drawing her close as 
the subdued applause followed. She liked 
the little speech, as she liked all praise of 
either herself or her belongings, and Jinny, in 
the abundant measure of her gratitude, had 
struck the highest possible note of approval. 
Beth Anne was stirred in the farthest corner 
of that nook in her heart which was labeled 
“ Vanity,” but she mistook it for benevolence. 

“ And the best of it is, that it’s just begun, 
Jinny ! ” she cried, beaming across the table. 
“ Just think of a whole week of it ! This is 
only the beginning 1 ” 


CHAPTER IX 


JINNY DECIDES 

Jinny's sweet speech made a great impres- 
sion on Mr. Barton. 

“ What do you say to our trying to make 
the Daleys send Jinny to school?" he asked 
his wife the next day as she sat fixing a dress 
for Jinny. “ If we pay enough for it, I fancy 
they might see their way to it. I mean that 
we might hire the woman up-stairs per- 
manently, and let Jinny go to public school. 
What do you think of it ? " 

“ I think it is well worth trying," she re- 
sponded, heartily. “ She simply must be 
educated, she is so hungry for it. And we 
really are in a way responsible, since she has 
put us so much in her debt by her services to 
Beth Anne, and David, too." 

“ Suppose I go see the Daleys about it," he 
i55 


156 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

suggested. “ I am pining for another inter- 
view with that Steve fellow/’ 

“Just as you say,” she smiled at him. 
“ Her grammar is the only undesirable thing 
about her, and Beth Anne’s English can’t be 
corrupted in a few more days.” 

“ I’ll do it now,” he decided, and, after a 
few words of caution to say nothing of his 
purpose to either Beth Anne or Jinny, he 
went on his second errand in Jinny’s behalf. 

He returned after an absence of nearly two 
hours. He looked perturbed, and yet elated. 
“ Come into the library, Carol,” he said to his 
wife, who was at the piano in the sitting-room, 
singing with the children. 

She followed him to the fireplace, where he 
stopped, facing her. 

“ I’m afraid I’ve done it,” he said briefly. 

“Oh, Ted, what is it?” she asked, anx- 
iously. 

His face relaxed into a smile at the alarm 
in her tone. 

“ Nothing fatal, I trust. It is about Jinny, 


J INN T DECIDES 1 57 

of course. I lost my temper and had rather a 

row with that Steve fellow ” He paused, 

frowning reminiscently. 

“ You did nothing to regret, Ted ? ” she 
asked, fearfully. 

“ You are afraid I punched him, Carol, I 
can see it in your eye,” he laughed. “ No, I 
didn’t go quite so far, though I should have 
very much liked to.” He smiled again. “ It 
was only verbal. But I did something you 
may consider worse. I have taken Jinny 
away from those creatures for good and all.” 

She gave a little cry of surprise, her eyes 
opening wide. “ Oh, Ted 1 How did you do 
it?” 

“ I am glad you don’t say 1 why did you do 
it,’ ” he replied, gravely enough. “ I lost my 
temper, as I said. The fellow refused to let 
her go to school, and we had a hot argument 
over it. I was determined, and so was he. 
At last he told me pointedly it was none of 
my business, and I could stand it no longer. 
I said I would take the child myself. He 


158 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

wasn’t prepared for that, and I could see that 
he thought me crazy. I shall have to pay 
them some money, of course, but it is all 
settled, and the lawyer is to meet us there to- 
morrow. I ’phoned to him at once. And 
now,” he ended, conclusively, “ Jinny need 
never see Carter Street again, — unless she 
chooses.” 

“ It is a great responsibility,” said his wife. 
“ But you did just right. It was no place for 
her.” 

“ We can send her to some good plain 
boarding-school, and she can have a chance 
in the world. If she turns out to be what she 
promises, it will be a good day’s work. If 
not, it’s all in the way of life, and I for one 
won’t complain.” 

Mrs. Burton nodded. “ Did you find any- 
thing more definite about her parents?” 

“ I got all there was by way of clue,” and 
he displayed a battered photograph of a sweet- 
looking girl in bridal attire. “ They seem to 
have nothing more than this. I suppose we 


J INN T DECIDES 159 

shall never know much more about her. The 
main thing is, that the picture proves that 
the child belongs in our class.” 

Mrs. Burton took the small card. “ Isn’t 
she a dear ! ” she exclaimed. “ Look, Ted, 
there is something on the back. 

He puzzled over it a bit, and then said, “ It 
looks like ‘ Virginia Ran * — it must be Ran- 
dolph. That is Jinny’s name, all right. The 
next looks like the name of a place, — ‘ Hill ’ — 
something, and then the county — Anne — it 
must be Princess Anne County. I wonder if 
she is a Virginia Randolph.” 

Mrs. Burton tucked the card in the secret 
drawer of her desk. “ We can think of that 
later. Just now we shall have to settle the 
Daley question. I suppose we must give her 
the choice, — although it is rather a farce.” 

So they called Jinny in, and told her of 
what had happened. They told her she must 
choose for herself. If she came to their care, 
she should go to school, where she should 
have to study hard, and perhaps be lonely. 


160 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


“ And now/’ ended Mr. Burton, “ it is for 
you to say whether you will be at school 
pegging away at hard lessons, or at the 
Daleys’ playing housekeeper for Steve.” 

She looked up at him beseechingly, one 
hand on her heart. “ I ain’t good enough, I 
know I ain’t,” she whispered brokenly, “ but, 
oh, don’t send me back 1 ” 

Mrs. Burton drew her close. “ You need 
never see them after to-morrow, dear child,” 
she said, softly. 

“ Did you ever hear who your people 
were ? ” inquired Mr. Burton. “ The Daleys 
would not even try to remember where they 
came from.” 

Jinny shook her head. “ I guess they 
don’t know. Mis’ Daley told me onct she 
never saw my father. He died before I was 
born, she said, and my mother was too poor 
to go home. She died, too, and Mis’ Daley 
kep’ me. I didn’t know till last winter. It 
made me feel queer and glad.” 

A beautiful light came into the big eyes. 


J INN T DECIDES 161 

^ t 3S I wanted to run away, like David 
thought they might not believe I 
o them, if I come, all poor and 
dirty. So I was just waitin' till I was big 
ei do for myself. I couldn't leave 

Mis' i^a ley without help while she was havin' 
her spells, anyway." 

Mrs. Burton kissed her, with tears in her eyes. 

“ It is all coming about as it should, Jinny 
dear. You surely have earned your promo- 
tion, and we may hope that the years may 
bring that great joy to you, too, if you keep 
on trying to deserve it." 

Beth Anne and David received the great 
news with appropriate demonstrations of joy, 
Beth Anne hugging her, and David so far 
forgetting his masculine dignity as to pat her 
on the back. 

“ Now I shan't have to be alone after you 
go, Debe. I wish Miss Marshall wouldn't 
open for weeks ! " said Beth Anne. “ When 
will Jinny go to school, Mother? " 

“ I think it will take a couple of weeks to 


162 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


get her fitted out,” replied Mrs. Burton. 
“ Your father wants to finish that study, anc 
there are many things to be arranged.” 

“ Goody-good I ” cried Beth Anne, hopping 
up and down. “ It’ll be like having a ; truly 
sister. I wish I could go to school with ber. 
I am tired to death of Miss Marshall’s Select 
School for Young Ladies ! ” 

Mrs. Burton shook her head, smiling, and 
Beth Anne with a sigh resigned herself to the 
tame prospect of life at home. 

“ I suppose I’ll have to keep on at Miss 
Marshall’s till I’m frightfully old,” she said, 
dolefully. “ Where is Jinny going, Munnie 
dearest? I hope it’s a really-for-truly nice 
place, and not one of those snippety places 
where they turn up their noses if you don’t 
take all the extras. Marjorie Doane said that 
where her Cousin Jane went, the girls looked 
down on you if you didn’t have a private 

riding horse of your own ” 

David snorted his contempt, and Mrs. 
Burton as she rose to leave the room gently 


JINNT DECIDES 163 

interrupted : “ I think we shall be able to 
find some pleasant quiet place where Jinny can 
enjoy herself, as well as get an education.” 

“Come up into my study,” Beth Anne sug- 
gested, “ and let’s talk about schools. Jinny 
ought to know a lot about them, you know, 
Debe, and we can tell her heaps.” Then, 
seeing protest on his face, she added per- 
suasively, “ You know such a lot about 
boarding-school.” 

David was much pleased at the office of 
instructor, and melted in a moment. “ All 
right,” he said, promptly. “ I’ll do the best I 
can. Come on, Jinny, I’ll tell you how to 
pick out your chums and ” 

“ Don’t you do everything just as he says,” 
cried Beth Anne with a swift revulsion of 
feeling. “ He’s awfully set in his ways, and 
as pokey as can be. I’ll tell you how to do it. 
Wait for me, both of you. The door is locked 
and I’ve hidden the key.” 


CHAPTER X 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 

David could hardly wait till the key was 
unearthed and they were settled in the forget- 
me-not study. 

“ Don’t you go too fast,” he admonished 
Jinny, seriously. “ You just wait till you see 
some one you want to know, and then sail in 
and be agreeable. You can’t pick out the 
good ones in any bunch, when you first see 
them.” 

“ Don’t you believe him, Virginia Ran- 
dolph,” said Beth Anne, with intensity. 
“He liked his. chum the very first moment 
he saw him, for he told me so.” 

“ Yes, that’s all right for him,” said poor 
Jinny, abashed at the prospect of having to 
go through such an ordeal. “ I’m different. 
Everybody would want to know you, and 
they mightn’t think I was good enough.” 

164 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 165 

Beth Anne wriggled impatiently. “ That’s 
stuff,” she declared. “ I think you’re an 
awful goose not to see how pretty you are, 
now that you have things like other people. 
And you'll soon learn to talk right. You’re a 
lot better already, and you’ve been here only 
six days.” 

This frank though friendly criticism of her 
qualifications for friendship made Jinny 
blush and David wince. 

“ You’re not so strong on grammar your- 
self, Snip,” he remarked casually. “ You use 
lots of queer words, — ‘ gorgeoliferous ’ and 
* splendacious ’ aren’t in the dictionary, and 
you know it.” 

Beth Anne elevated her chin in a partic- 
ularly self-satisfied way. 

“ Miss Marshall says that it is perfectly cor- 
rect to make up words to express your feel- 
ings if you are clever enough to make ones 
that people understand. Most words were 
made that way ; it’s only stupid people who 
have to use the same old stale words.” 


166 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


11 Let's get to business,” said David. 

“ What do you do your first evening at 
school, Debe?” asked Beth Anne. 

David very willingly expounded school 
etiquette, and they were soon so deep in the 
subject that the dinner gong broke in on their 
excited plannings for Jinny’s future life in 
school. 

“ Mercy, we’re late ! ” cried Beth Anne in a 
flutter. “ We’ll have to get dressed after 
dinner. How horrid ! And the Gregors are 
coming at half-past seven ! ” 

“ Bet they’ll open their eyes when they hear 
about Jinny,” said David, as they hurried 
down-stairs. “ Bet they’d like to help us tell 
her about boarding-school. They both go.” 

Beth Anne could hardly eat any dinner, 
she was so excited over the tremendous sur- 
prise that the Gregors were to get when they 
learned the great news of Jinny’s having left 
Carter Street for good and all. 

Jinny was already so uplifted by the mar- 
velous prospects that had suddenly opened 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 167 

up before her that afternoon that she hardly 
took in Beth Anne’s excited planning, but 
sat, with a most beatific expression on her 
thin, flushed face, and her two big eyes shin- 
ing with an almost unearthly light. 

Mrs. Burton glanced at her while Beth 
Anne was rattling on, and saw that her hand 
shook as she tried to go on quietly with her 
dinner, and that the food seemed to be 
actually choking her. It was evident that 
Jinny could stand pain better than great joy, 
being no doubt much more used to misery 
and privation than to happiness, and that the 
blissful shock of her deliverance from the 
hard bondage of the Daleys was proving more 
of a tax on her fortitude than the pain of the 
burnt arm had been. 

Mrs. Burton tried to subdue Beth Anne 
quietly, but the gentle signals were lost in 
the flood of chatter with which Beth Anne 
was deluging David. 

“ Beth Anne, dear,” began Mrs. Burton, 
when suddenly Jinny grew so pale that she 


1 68 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

broke off in alarm, and Mr. Burton, who also 
had noticed Jinny's changed look, jumped up 
and went around to her just in time to catch 
her as she fell fainting into his arms. 

Beth Anne squealed in an agony of swift 
fear. “ Oh, is she dead ? ” she cried, as they 
followed Mr. Burton's hasty retreat to the 
hall, each as frightened as could be over this 
catastrophe. “ Is she dead ? Oh, tell me 
right away, please ! ” 

Mrs. Burton, who had caught up a glass of 
water and was forcing a little between Jinny’s 
lips, shook her head, and David grunted with 
relief. “ Gee, but she's white about the gills, 
isn't she ? ” he said. 

Jinny sat up on the wide davenport, trying 
to smile, and Beth Anne, still palpitating 
with her recent fright, looked at her with 
great respect. She had never known any but 
grown-ups to faint, and it seemed a very as- 
piring act on Jinny's part. 

“ Did she really-for-truly faint, Munnie ? ” 
she asked in a subdued tone. 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 169 

She grew more subdued as her mother 
nodded. Somehow this grown-up perform- 
ance on Jinny's part made her feel suddenly 
very young and unimportant. She had 
never even had a giddy spell, and as for faint- 
ing just because you were awfully happy, she 
could not understand how a plain every-day 
little girl could manage such a thing. 

She put her arms very lovingly about Jinny 
when she sat down beside her after the others 
had gone back to finish their dinner, but in 
her very deepest, secret heart there was a tiny 
cool spot that she did not recognize as jealousy. 
It was not so much real jealousy, either. It 
was merely a ghost of that unkind feeling. 
Beth Anne would have scouted the idea of 
jealousy with sincere disdain, so unconscious 
was she of the reason for that little cool spot 
in her affections toward Jinny. 

“ Tell me all about it, Jinny dear. How 
did you feel before it happened ? ” she asked, 
eagerly. 

Jinny only smiled faintly and shook her 


170 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

head in a tired sort of way. She did not un- 
derstand what a remarkable deed she had ac- 
complished in collapsing as she had. 

“ I didn’t feel anyway, — just trembly and 
sort of tired,” she said weakly. “ Don’t let’s 
talk about it. It makes me kinda sick-feel- 
ing.” 

Beth Anne felt rebuffed. Jinny seemed to 
her to be putting on airs. Her feelings were 
slightly ruffled, and she showed it. 

“ Well, don’t if you don’t want to,” she 
said, crisply. “ I’m sure I wouldn’t tire you 
for worlds ! ” 

Jinny sighed a fluttering breath and leaned 
her head back among the cushions again, 
with a pleading look in her great eyes, but 
Beth Anne, now growing more conscious 
every moment of that cool place in her heart, 
rose stiffly. 

“ I guess I’ll go finish ‘my dinner,” she 
said, and waited for the fraction of a second 
for Jinny to speak. Jinny’s pale lips did not 
utter one detaining word, so she stalked back 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 171 

into the dining-room with a very gloomy air 
and began on her dessert. 

Mrs. Burton finished quickly and took 
Jinny off to bed, while Beth Anne ended her 
meal in a very leisurely fashion, with the 
jealous spot growing from cool to warm, 
and from warm to hot, as she thought of 
Jinny's swift rise to prominence in the 
household that had been all her own until 
now. 

“ I wouldn't mind so much her being always 
called the heroine," she told herself. “ Things 
happened so that she came in at just the right 
time to act that way : but what I do think is 
very queer and uppity is for her to put on 
airs with me, me, in my own house, and to 
act as if she were a grown-up. Just the very 
words they always use, too, — ‘ Don't let's talk 
about it, now ' ! Well, I guess I won't trouble 
you much, Miss Jinny Randolph, with asking 
after your precious fainty feelings. You can 
faint every day, and all day long, for all I'll 
care." 


172 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

She caught David's eye on her, and came to 
herself with a jump. 

“ We’ll have to go slow with the Gregors, 
won’t we, Snip? ” he remarked, adjusting him- 
self comfortably to the difference in their plans 
for the evening. “ We can’t make all that 
hullabaloo now Jinny’s laid up for the 
night.” 

The prospect of the evening suddenly palled 
on Beth Anne. “ Let’s go over to Gregors’ 
ourselves,” she suggested. “ We won’t dis- 
turb Jinny if we’re over there.” 

Her rather pointed manner was lost on him, 
for he replied easily : 

“ All right, if Aunt Carol’s agreed. We 
can have just as much fun, — long as Jinny’s 
laid up anyway.” 

Mrs. Burton agreed and even had a word of 
praise for Beth Anne’s thoughtfulness that set 
that young lady up considerably in her own 
opinion ; and so a very delightful evening 
was spent with Tom and Helen, of which Beth 
Anne, as showman and recounter of the thrill- 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 173 

ing events of the afternoon, played no small 
part. 

She returned to her pink room with a glow 
of satisfaction with all the world and herself, 
and even asked quite affectionately after Jinny, 
feeling as she did so very Christian and for- 
giving. 

“ She’ll be all right in the morning, dear,” 
Mrs. Burton assured her. “ She isn’t used to 
good times, you see, and so we have to be care- 
ful of her. You’ll be kind and thoughtful, I 
know, by the care you showed for her to-night. 
You are a great comfort to me, chick, when 
you behave so well,” and she gave her another 
kiss as she tucked her in for the last time. 

Beth Anne preened herself and smiled, but 
she said never a word. The little cool spot 
was almost forgotten, now that she had the 
center of the stage again. It was not that she 
was ungenerous or hard by nature, but she 
had been so long the only child in the house 
to be loved and petted, that it went hard with 
her when another took the first place in pub- 


i 7 4 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

lie attention. Her love of showing off which 
had grown unconsciously to herself and been 
fostered by her lack of childish companionship 
had begun to overshadow her better qualities, 
although none of her family recognized this 
fact as yet. 

Mrs. Burton's prophecy in regard to Jinny 
proved quite true, and the morning found her 
herself again, with no memory of the slight 
estrangement of the night before. It was New 
Year's Day and the three children spent it 
happily together, and although Beth Anne 
had now and again a sense of something dif- 
ferent in her heart toward Jinny, she did not 
stop to analyze it, being up to her eyes in en- 
joyment. 

New Year's Day with the Burtons was a 
twin to Christmas day, except that instead of 
receiving presents, the children spent the 
morning taking dainty packages of tea and 
good little biscuits to the old ladies of their 
acquaintance who were not so well off as they 
might be. Jackson took the three of them in 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 175 

the big sleigh, and it was surprising how many 
nice old ladies there were to welcome them 
and invite them to come for a cup of the tea 
and some of the biscuits. 

“ That’s Mother’s treat,” exclaimed Beth 
Anne, as they tumbled into the sleigh for the 
last trip. “ She wants everybody to have a 
nice time on New Year’s Day, to start the new 
year all nice and comfy. And she puts in 
every one of them,” here Beth Anne whis- 
pered, so Jackson could not overhear, “ a 
new five dollar bill ! What do you think of 
that?” 

Jinny’s eyes shone with admiration. “ I 
tell you, she’s the stuff, ain’t she ? ” she said. 
“ I bet there ain’t any one else ’ud do it.” 

“ You mustn’t tell anybody,” cautioned Beth 
Anne. “ Nobody knows but me, and I just 
happened to see. S-sh, don’t let Debe hear.” 

Jinny clutched her hand tightly. “You 
ain’t mad with me no more, are you ? ” she 
whispered with a pleading look. 

Beth Anne shook her head. “ I love you 


176 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

all right,” she admitted, with a rather patron- 
izing air. “ But you know, Jinny dear, I 
have a great many things to think about, and 
perhaps sometimes I may have to neglect 
you a tiny bit.” 

Jinny did not recognize that she was being 
put into her place by the young lady of the 
house, and she gave Beth Anne a tight 
squeeze. 

“ I’ll understand,” she acquiesced joyfully. 
“ Now I know, I won’t care if you hardly 
speak to me. Are you still thinkin’ about 
them plays you’re a-writin’ ? ” 

Beth Anne nodded mysteriously. “ But 
don’t let’s talk about them now,” she said. 
“ Let’s talk about to-day.” 

The day was a very gay one, for they spent 
the afternoon in receiving callers, who came 
in crowds. In the evening they had a jolly 
“ stand-up ” supper for their friends and, al- 
together, there was as much festivity as could 
be crowded into one short winter’s day. 

But to Beth Anne the crowning glory of all 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 177 

had been the moment when she, sitting be- 
fore her desk in the forget-me-not blue study, 
had taken the fat red diary from its drawer 
and dipped her pen in the ink, preparatory to 
making the first entry. 

She wanted the opening sentences to be 
brilliant or unusual, but although she shut 
her eyes and thought hard, nothing original 
would come. All she could bring to mind 
was the nursery song : 

u The New Year is beginning, 

Be joyful one and all.” 

And that would not do at all. So she nibbled 
the end of her pen, and stared at the ceiling, 
amazed to find the scribbling habit suddenly 
gone clean away. A sort of mental diffidence 
seized on her, and she actually blushed at the 
sight of the waiting page. 

“ It seems so queer to write down real 
things that I think and do,” she said to her- 
self. “ Stories would be easy, but it's fero- 
ciously hard to start this. Perhaps, as it is 


178 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

New Year, I ought to put a verse from the 
Bible at the top.” 

This pleased her, suggesting, as it did, a 
saintly character, and she took the first one 
that came into her head, printing in large let- 
ters across the top of the page, — “ Grow in 
Grace.” 

After that it was plain sailing, and she 
filled the page to the very bottom, infatuated 
with this new self-centered literature, and 
when she reluctantly laid down her pen and 
tucked the red volume into its hiding-place, 
she was eagerly looking ahead to the morrow 
that should bring another blank page to be 
filled. 

David left on the next day. There was the 
customary gloomy interval of parting, when 
Beth Anne wept unrebuked on his clean collar 
and Jinny could not comfort her. He was 
very low spirited and drove off for the noon 
train, while the two girls were left alone on 
the brick terrace, waving tearful farewells. 

When he was really out of sight, Beth 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 179 

Anne, leaving Jinny to shift for herself, flew 
to her room to weep. Flinging herself down 
in the desk chair in the study, she gave vent 
to her woe in several long sobs. She rather 
liked to hear the sharp intake of breath be- 
tween the sobs, and she felt proudly that she 
was doing David full justice in lamenting him 
in the blue constancy of the study, rather than 
in the gay, pink-flowered bedroom, where her 
sense of fitness had suggested that she fling 
herself sobbing on the bed, as so many of her 
favorite heroines had done. 

While she was keeping David's memory 
green among the forget-me-nots, her wander- 
ing eyes caught from under the cuff* of her 
sleeve a glint of sunlight on metal, and she sat 
up eagerly. It was the brass handle on the 
drawer, wherein lay the diary with the blank 
pages in it. 

“ I guess I'll feel better if I can write down 
just how badly I do feel," she said, mopping 
her eyes, and reaching briskly for the treasure. 

She spent a consolatory hour scratching 


i8o BETH ANNE HERSELF 


busily away, until she gradually lost her sense 
of bereavement in pride in her powers of 
scribbling. The pleasure of using the new 
dictionary, which she had bought with some 
of her Christmas money, added great zest to 
the performance. 

Finally she was interrupted by Jinny, who 
came dn on her way from the studio. Her 
eyes were shining, and there was an air of 
suppressed excitement about her. 

“What’s up? ’’questioned Beth Anne, on 
whom no slightest mood of Jinny’s was lost. 

“ He says that if I get along well at school, 
and draw things good, he’ll show me how to 
paint,” she announced breathlessly. “ I’m 
goin’ to work harder’n anybody ever did, and 
maybe — maybe — I can learn ! ” 

Beth Anne looked disappointed. “ Oh, was 
that all ? ” she said, coolly. “ I thought it was 
something exciting.” 

“Well, ain’t it?” queried Jinny, almost 
bristling. “ It’s the grandest thing in the 
world, I think.” 


PLANS AND PROJECTS 181 

Beth Anne looked superior and then an- 
noyed. “ You’d rather be in that big bare old 
studio than anywhere, wouldn’t you?” she 
asked, with a curious note in her voice. 

Jinny hesitated, not wanting to hurt her 
friend’s feelings. “ I just love your study,” 
she confessed. “ But in the studio there’s 
lots of pots full of long handled brushes, and 
palettes hanging up on the wall. When Mr. 
Burton squeezes out the bright colors from 
the shiny tubes, somehow it makes me think 
there ain’t nothing else half so nice.” 

That little cold spot in Beth Anne’s heart, 
which she had almost forgotten about, suddenly 
began to make itself felt. Strangely enough, 
this time it was not entirely jealousy of Jinny 
that stirred there. It included her father this 
time, and she swiftly decided that the studio 
should not outstrip her own blue study in 
Jinny’s affections. 

“ If you like posing so much, perhaps I’ll 
do a portrait of you. Father’s picture is only 
a study for the panel, you know,” she said, 


182 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


loftily, as though she were in the habit of 
tossing off masterpieces daily. 

Jinny looked her surprise. “ Can you 
paint? You never told me.” She did not 
add that Beth Anne had so thoroughly in- 
formed her of all her other accomplishments 
that she had not imagined there could be any 
in reserve. 

That young lady was properly condescend- 
ing. “ If you think I can't,” she said 
sweetly, “ you don't need to pose.” 

Jinny was instantly regretful of even the 
tiniest doubt. “ I didn't mean that you 
couldn't paint. Only that I hadn't heard of 
it. I'd love to pose. When will you begin ? ” 

“ This afternoon, when they're out,” replied 
Beth Anne, making an instant plan. “ And 
when you see your portrait, done in the beau- 
tifullest colors, and looking precisely like you, 
perhaps you'll think I can do something, too, 
and you won’t be so snippety about it, Miss 
Virginia Randolph I ” 


CHAPTER XI 


BETH ANNE PAINTS A PORTRAIT 

They climbed the studio stairs in a great 
flutter of spirits. 

“ I want a lot of color in it,” declared Beth 
Anne. “ Til find the gorgeousest thing for 
you to wear. Wait till you see it.” 

She rummaged recklessly through the cos- 
tume chests, and finally pulled out a brilliant 
Japanese robe, all stiff brocade and embroid- 
ery. 

“ There ! It goes on right over your dress, 
and I haven’t mussed your hair a bit. You 
look perfectly magnificent in it.” 

“Ain’t it elegant?” said Jinny, smoothing 
the rich folds with careful fingers. “ Do you 
think he’d mind? ” 

“ Who, — Father ? No, of course not. That’s 
what it is for, to pose in. Now for the chair 
you’re to sit in.” 

183 


184 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

She selected a great carved chair from 
medieval Italy instead of the teakwood stool 
Jinny preferred. 

“ This is just the thing / 7 she insisted. “ It 
goes with that scrolly embroidery on your 
robe. Sit down with your hands on the arms 
of the chair, so you’ll fill it up more, — you 
look too pindling the way you are now.” 

“ If I pull the wrapper out wide, it’ll help 
fill up,” suggested Jinny hopefully, and she 
spread the folds till there was nothing to be 
seen of the model herself save a head and pair 
of small hands. 

“ Oh, don’t ! ” cried Beth Anne. “ You 
look like a pincushion, and I want to stick 
pins in you. Do smooth it down.” 

While Jinny meekly flattened her buoyant 
draperies into a more human semblance, Beth 
Anne selected the biggest palette she could 
find among various ones hanging on pegs on 
the wall, and getting out her father’s color 
box, began to squeeze the paints out on it 
with a liberal hand. 


A PORTRAIT 185 

“ I’ll put out all the paint I need and then 
I shan’t have to get out the tubes again,” she 
said. “ And I’ll use all the new tubes because 
it’s quicker to get the paint out of them when 
they are fat and new. Father won’t mind 
when he sees the portrait, I’m sure.” 

“ You ain’t afraid of anything, are you?” 
asked Jinny admiringly. 

Beth Anne flung the last tube into the 
color box with a pleasant sense of being equal 
to every occasion. 

“ Now I’ll get the canvas,” she said, laying 
the palette on the stool, while she rolled the 
big easel to the light. 

She could find only one without paint on 
it, and that had some faint tracery on it with 
a figure lightly indicated in the center of the 
web-like lines. 

“ I guess this is an old one Father doesn’t 
want,” she said, carelessly, wiping off the 
delicate tracery with one sweep. “ Now then, 
Jinny ! ” and placing the clean canvas on the 
easel, she took up the charcoal. 


1 86 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


Jinny sat up straight in her gorgeous dra- 
peries, and with a flourish of the charcoal 
stick in her hand, Beth Anne began to draw. 

As she worked, her tongue flew. 

“ I love big, long words, don’t you ? And 
I hate to cut them down, as they make you at 
school, and I always just stuff my stories with 
them.” 

“ I shouldn’t think big words would matter 
much, if it was a real good story,” said Jinny, 
loyally. 

Beth Anne squinted at the drawing, which 
was growing rapidly, and settled herself more 
comfortably on the stool. 

“ But the thing I hate worst,” she continued, 
“ is for children to try to act my plays when 
I’m not there. They make such a mess of it.” 

“I guess I’d like plays about fairies, like 
that Midsummer Dream play your father 
read,” ventured Jinny. 

“ Oh, I don’t like that very much,” replied 
Beth Anne. “ Father says Shakespeare is the 
greatest man who ever wrote, but I never read 


A PORTRAIT 


187 

any other of his. I like plays about kings 
and queens and blood and terrible things, but 
Father doesn't want me to read them or write 
about them. I don't know why, I’m sure.” 

“ I guess he wants you to write about what 
you really know,” suggested Jinny, uncon- 
sciously hitting the nail on the head. 

“ Well, I’ve read a lot about kings and 
queens, and that’s like knowing them, isn’t 
it ? ” protested Beth Anne. 

Without waiting for an answer, she jumped 
up from the stool where she had been sitting 
for the last half hour. 

“ There ! ” she exclaimed, triumphantly. 
“ The outline is all in, and now I’ll begin to 
paint.” 

“ My, but you’re fast,” cried Jinny. “ Mr. 
Burton takes all the morning to draw me in. 
May I look ? ” 

Beth Anne paused, with the atomizer at 
her lips. “ Not till to-morrow morning, when 
Father sees it. I want you to be surprised, 
too,” and she blew the fixatif on in clouds. 


1 88 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


“ All right,” said Jinny, good-naturedly. 
“ I won’t even peep.” 

Still copying her father’s method, Beth 
Anne sat down for a final critical review of 
her work. 

“ It needs more hair,” she commented. 
“ But I can put that on when I paint. 
Where’s the palette ? ” 

Remembering that she had laid it on the 
stool, she gave a gasp that brought Jinny’s 
eyes down from the ceiling. 

“ Oh, oh ! ” cried Beth Anne, twisting 
about to try to get a view of her own back. 
“ I’ve been sitting on that hateful old palette 
all the time ! ” 

And there, sure enough, on the back of 
her embroidered pink linen, were the great 
bunches of blue and green and red that she 
had squeezed out with such a free hand. 

“ I forgot I put it on the stool,” wailed Beth 
Anne. “ Do help me scrape it off, Jinny. I 
can’t reach it.” 

Jinny slipped out of her gay robe and 



“how does it look ? 















































A PORTRAIT 189 

scraped away with a will, till the waste-basket 
was filled to its top with dirty paint rags, and 
wads of paint. 

“Can you get any more off?” inquired 
Beth Anne, at last. “ Because if you can't, 
I'd better go on with the picture. I won't get 
it done if I don't hurry.” 

“ It's as dry as dry,” replied Jinny, view- 
ing it with her head on one side. “ It won't 
hurt none to sit on it now.” 

Beth Anne twisted for a view of her back 
in the long mirror at the other end of the 
studio, and then she laughed. 

“ I'll put the back of my dress in a frame 
and send it to the next exhibition, and maybe 
I'll get a medal,” she said. 

With a fresh pile of paint rags, and another 
palette full of colors, she settled down to work 
again, and she worked with redoubled energy 
until the light began to fade, and the small 
figure in the large chair was drooped almost 
double with fatigue. 

“ How does it look ? ” Jinny asked, stretch- 


1 90 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

ing her tired arms above her head as she saw 
Beth Anne lay down the palette and step 
back for a squinting survey of the portrait. 

“ Pretty well,” replied the artist. “ It 
doesn't look much like you, but that doesn't 
matter in a portrait.” 

“ What's portraits for, if they aren't to look 
like the folks they’re done for? ” asked Jinny, 
perplexed. 

“ To hang in the hall or parlor,” responded 
Beth Anne, with knowledge born of experi- 
ence. “ You put big gold frames on them, 
and they make the place look expensive.” 

“ Ain't that funny ? ” murmured Jinny, be- 
wildered. 

“ You think they ought to be like photo- 
graphs, don't you?” laughed Beth Anne. 
“ But you'll get used to them after while. 
And some of them really do look like the 
people. This looks like your eyes, all right. I 
hope Father will like it. He ought to, for 
I've put in everything, — even your shoe- 
buttons.” 


A PORTRAIT 


191 

“ I guess he’ll be tickled to death when 
he sees it,” said Jinny. “ I know I’ll like 
it.” 

Beth Anne flung the palette on a near-by 
table and stuck the brushes in a jar, bristles 
down. 

“ I’ll wash them after while,” she said. 
“ Come on. We must go down and hide 
my dress before they get back, or they’ll 
guess.” 

They raced down-stairs and hurried into 
Beth Anne’s room to stow away the telltale 
pink linen with its glaring spots. 

“ Let’s wait till he goes up in the morning, 
and just creep after him, and hear what he 
says,” suggested Jinny, happily. 

“ All right,” agreed Beth Anne. “ I wish it 
was morning now.” 

It took a great deal of strength of mind not 
to let the secret out that night, but they 
managed to hold their surprise in reserve till 
tho proper moment, although as Beth Anne 
plaintively said to Jinny as she kissed her 


i 9 2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

good-night, “ I never thought it would take 
so much remembering to try to forget.” 

When Mr. Burton, following his custom, 
left the breakfast table for the studio, they 
followed him with noiseless tread, keeping 
just far enough behind that he might not 
notice them. 

Beth Anne’s head was wagging and a proud 
smile was on her lips, and she could not resist 
a whispered word to Jinny at the foot of the 
last flight. 

“ You don’t mind if I give it to Mother, do 
you ? It would be such a whacking big pres- 
ent for her birthday, and she just loves pic- 
tures, when they’re good.” 

Jinny beamed. “ It ’ud be grand,” she 
whispered back. “ I wish we could get a 
frame for it.” 

“ Oh, Father will get a fine one ” Beth 

Anne began, when the noise of the studio 
door’s opening made them start. 

They hurried up-stairs and crouched at the 
door, listening for his joyful surprise. Their 


A PORTRAIT 


193 

hearts were beating fast, and they smiled at 
each other in anticipation of the praise that 
was to come. 

They heard him walk over to the easel, and 
their hearts were in their mouths. They 
hardly breathed, so eagerly they listened. 
And then came his astonished exclamation : 

“ iTaMelujah ! ” 

Then there was a silence and a long, low 
whistle, as he swung the easel about to the 
light. It certainly sounded like surprise, but it 
did not sound as though he were overwhelmed 
with admiration. The two girls looked at 
each other in dismay. 

u He doesn't like it I ” burst from Beth 
Anne's whitening lips. She was stung to the 
quick at the thought of failure. 

“ Don't sound like he's awful stuck on it," 
agreed Jinny, lapsing into her dialect. 
“ Sounds like he thinks it's sort of a joke." 

Beth Anne never could stand suspense. 
She sprang up, opened the door, and walked 
in, followed by the agitated Jinny. 


i 9 4 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Why don’t you like it ? ” she demanded of 
her father, who was still standing before the 
easel with a very peculiar expression on his 
face, — an expression Beth Anne dreaded more 
than wrath, for it told her that she had 
not only made a failure where she had hoped 
for a dazzling success, but that her failure had 
a somewhat humorous side. 

He smiled and shook his head reproach- 
fully at her, as he swung the canvas about to 
full view. 

“ Do you really like it, Snippet?” he asked, 
seriously. “ It seemed to me on first sight 
about as bad as you could make ’em, but if 
you feel satisfied ” 

Beth Anne gave one horrified glance at the 
portrait, which glared at her in the strong 
morning light with every raw color ablaze 
and every false line fairly shrieking. In the 
dim twilight it had seemed a masterpiece, but 
in the flood of ruddy sun it showed as a per- 
fect caricature of a work of art. 

“ You see how it is,” he went on, cocking 


A PORTRAIT 


195 

his head on one side to look at it. “ It isn't 
worth so much as you thought it, is it, now ? " 
Beth Anne for once was speechless, and 
could only shake her head. 

“ You rubbed out a very good outline I had 
started for a memorial window, and you 
wasted my best paints at a scandalous rate, 
too," he said quietly. “ And I don't believe 
you've made good. Unless," he added, with 
a smile, “ you're going in for some new school 
of painting " 

“ Oh, pleasfc I " cried Beth Anne, humiliated 
and smarting at the sight of her own folly. 
“ Please don't laugh ! I hate it ! It’s hid- 
eouser than anything I ever saw ! I don’t 
see how I ever did it. It doesn't look like 
Jinny, or — or — anything ! " 

Mr. Burton turned to Jinny, who had been 
staring wonderingly at the crude daubs of red 
and yellow paint that had been intended to 
represent her face, and, with one movement 
of his hand, he swung her in line with the 


canvas. 


196 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Beth Anne shuddered. There was no need 
of words. 

“ Awful waste of good stuff, wasn’t it?” he 
said conversationally to the disturbed Jinny, 
who could answer never a word. 

He turned briskly to the stricken Beth 
Anne. “ That’s the end of the new school of 
Beth Anne portraiture,” he announced, tak- 
ing down the canvas and presenting it with a 
flourish to the unsuccessful artist. “ Keep 
this to remind you, Beth Anne, it isn’t so 
easy as it looks. Stick to your own sort of 
work. Relieve your temperament by scrib- 
bling and practicing scales ; that will be 
enough for you, my dear. Now trot, both of 
you, while I get things in shape for my own 
insignificant operations.” 

Beth Anne took the hateful canvas with a 
sickening sensation that she always felt when 
she had made herself ridiculous. 

“ Do I have to keep it? ” she asked, sniffing 
a little, but not giving way to tears entirely. 

He nodded. “ Good for the soul, Snippet,” 


A PORTRAIT 


i9 7 

he smiled. “ We learn a lot from our fail- 
ures, you know, and I’m thinking that can- 
vas will help you tremendously in the future.” 

Jinny slipped her arm through hers as 
they crept down-stairs together, but neither 
of them uttered a word. Beth Anne was suf- 
fering from a keen sense of having bungled 
laughably, and Jinny was frozen with sym- 
pathy for her suffering. 

“ Father thinks it’s very funny,” she 
thought disconsolately, sitting at her desk 
with her head in her hands. “ But if I had 
a child who mussed up my things, I don’t 
think I’d laugh at her. It seems to me that 
anybody might make a mistake, — once in a 
lifetime.” 

The breadth of this way of looking at her 
offense so appealed to her that she almost 
wept over the narrow-mindedness of criticiz- 
ing her for this one transgression of her life- 
time. 

“ If I were to die of grief,” she thought, 
pensively, “ Father would understand that 


198 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

he’d made too much fun of me, and I guess 
he’d be pretty sorry.” 

She shut her eyes to see more clearly the 
picture of herself made by her quick mind. 
She saw it very clearly, the darkened room, 
the smell of many flowers, and her father re- 
morsefully weeping at her side. Her muscles 
relaxed. She even began to feel the chill 
creeping over her. She opened her eyes with 
a jerk, her heart beating in fright. 

“ Gracious I ” she shivered. “ That was a 
close shave. A little more and I’d have been 
really-for-truly dead. And I don’t believe I’d 
like to see Father cry like that. It was all my 
fault, anyway.” 

Some words drifted into her mind, words 
that she recalled as the text she had learned 
the previous Sunday in the lesson. 

“ * Children, obey your parents in the 
Lord,’ ” she murmured, thoughtfully. “ And 
there’s a commandment, too, about it ! 

1 Honor thy father ’ Oh, dear, I guess 

I’ve been very wicked to feel that way toward 


A PORTRAIT 


199 

Father ! " she broke off, and dropping on her 
knees beside the desk, she bent her head and 
prayed fervently. 

“ Dear Lord, make me very honorable to 
Father and Mother. And please help me not 
to have impudent thoughts that would make 
me uncomfortable when I am dead ” 

A knock interrupted her, and she jumped 
up to open the door, which she had slammed 
hard when she rushed in. When she saw her 
mother, with a rather uncertain expression on 
her pretty face, she knew that Mrs. Burton 
had heard of her performance in the studio, 
and had come to investigate. But, thanks to 
the little interrupted prayer, the smart of re- 
sentment against what she considered injustice 
was wholly gone. 

“ I'm sorry, Mother dear," she said. “ Be- 
cause, really-for-truly, I never thought it 
was wrong to take Father's things. I thought 
I was going to make a lovely picture that he'd 
be proud of. I didn't dream I’d make such a 
hobgoblin thing as it is." 


200 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


Mrs. Burton, thankful that Beth Anne had, 
by some means unknown to her, reached the 
state of mind she had come to argue her into, 
patted the glowing cheek, on which the tears 
were hardly dry, and said, gently : 

“ I think it would be well for you to tell 
your father how you feel about it. No doubt 
he would be glad to hear it.” 

Beth Anne nodded eagerly. She liked to 
do things well. “ I’ll tell him just as soon as 
he comes down,” she cried. “ And I’ll wash 
all the paint brushes, — and — clean the studio, 
too.” 

“ I think Jackson is able to do £'A that, as 
usual,” smiled her mother. “ You might tr}' 
to be as kind and gentle as you can to every- 
body for the rest of the week. That would 
show you wanted to please him, and I am 
sure it would.” 

“ I’ll do it for the whole month ! ” cried 
Beth Anne, delighted with the idea of whole- 
sale reparation. “ I’ll be so good you won’t 
know me. You’ll see I ” 


CHAPTER XII 

JINNY GOES TO SCHOOL 

“ How I hate that ticket,” said Beth Anne, 
staring at the printed oblong that lay on 
Jinny’s bag on the dresser. 

The two girls had spent the night together 
in the flowery room, in their old time 
harmony. The grief of parting had sent Beth 
Anne’s jealousy to the wall, for the time being 
at least, and Jinny was leaving with a satisfy- 
ing sen e of her nearness and dearness to the 
object of her humble adoration. 

“ Why do you hate the ticket? ” she asked, 
brushing her thick hair vigorously, and beam- 
ing on Beth Anne. 

“ Because it shows how far you’re going to 
be away from me,” replied that young person, 
with a thump of her own hair-brush on the 
offending pasteboard. “ Greenfield’s miles 

and miles from here, and you know it, Jinny- 
201 


202 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


pinny, — only you don't care. You're going 
to have such a good time that you like to look 
at the ticket, and you leave it out so I'll cry 
quarts to think how lonely I'll be when you’re 
away enjoying yourself at Brighton." 

Jinny tied her hair ribbon carefully, reas- 
sured by Beth Anne's giggle. Her eyes were 
very serious, however, as she turned them on 
her. 

“ I'll be lots nearer than I used to be," she 
said, smiling at the thought. “ I know you 
now, and I can write letters, too." 

“ Pooh, that doesn't amount to so much," 
said Beth Anne, catching her spirit. “ I’d 
rather have you here. But I suppose you’ll 
soon forget us. You’ll be going about rescu- 
ing the principal and the teachers, and you’ll 
soon get so uppity that you’ll be too fine to 
care about me any more." 

Jinny winced at the laughing accusation, 
but she did not show how deeply it hurt. She 
reached out an eager hand and turned Beth 
Anne's mobile face to hers. 


JINNT GOES TO SCHOOL 203 

“ You know that I love you best of all,” 
she said, solemnly. “ And I always shall, — 
no matter what happens. Remember that, 
Beth Anne, for I mean it with every last bit 
of me. I ain’t the sort to forget.” 

Beth Anne wriggled under the intensity of 
the earnest eyes. A memory of her own jeal- 
ousy of this staunch friend flitted uneasily 
through her mind, and she flushed guiltily. 
Then she recalled her resolve to be very good 
and humble and somehow that resolution 
seemed to her to atone for her past injustice : 
and she felt quite comfortable again. Al- 
though she was red with momentary em- 
barrassment, she shook it off, and, swooping 
down on’ Jinny, shook her by the shoulders 
till the solemn, exalted look gave place to a 
flash of laughter. 

“ I’ll remember what you say, Miss Ran- 
dolph, and I’ll write it down this very day in 
my diary,” she threatened her, kissing her on 
either cheek. “ And if you ever get too much 
cocked up by other people’s praise and like 


204 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

some one else better, I'll haul it out and show 
it to you, — see if I don’t ! ” 

“ You won’t ever have to do that,” Jinny 
assured her, growing solemn again. “ I shall 
always love you most of all, deep down in my 
heart. And there won’t ever come a time 
when I’ll forget you.” 

Beth Anne, having finished dressing first, 
danced off to watch the trunks being carried 
out by the expressmen, satisfied with Jinny’s 
vow, and very much approving Jinny’s devo- 
tion to herself. 

“ You aren’t enjoying yourself a bit, Jinny- 
pinny,” she declared, as they got into their 
things and followed Mr. and Mrs. Burton into 
the taxi. “ You look awfully dismal. I wish 
I were in your place ; I’d show you what a real 
traveler ought to look like.” 

“ Maybe you would,” ventured Jinny, 
doubtfully. “ You’ve traveled lots, and you 
don’t mind the strange people on the trains, 
but I’m so queer about new places. Maybe 
the principal won’t like me, either.” 


JINNT GOES TO SCHOOL 205 

“ Well, you’ve got Father with you, haven’t 
you ? ” demanded Beth Anne. “ He won’t let 
the principal gobble you up all at once. If 
everything isn’t all right, he says you shan’t 
stay there.” 

They got out at the station and took the 
elevator, feeling very strange indeed in the 
chill and murky atmosphere of the dim morn- 
ing. 

Mr. Burton bought some magazines at the 
news-stand, and Mrs. Burton added some 
candy to the collection in Jinny’s arms. Beth 
Anne, in an interval of earnest talk between 
her parents and Jinny, wandered over to the 
flower stand, attracted by the glow of color 
behind the glass of the show-cases. 

“ I’ll get a bunch of violets for Jinny,” she 
thought, with a gay sense of importance lift- 
ing her now sagging spirits. “ She’ll like vio- 
lets, I know, because they are my favorite 
flower.” 

The clerk was very obliging indeed, and 
gave her a lovely violet ribbon to tie them 


206 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


with and a long, violet-headed pin, which she 
had admired among a number of pins in a 
cushion on the counter. 

“ He’s ever so kind,” she thought, and was 
going to say so, when he handed her the 
flowers wrapped in a deft twist of green paraf- 
fine paper through which the flowers showed 
alluringly. 

“ Two-forty-five, please,” he said, cheerfully. 

“ W-what did you say ? ” inquired Beth 
Anne, incredulously. 

She had bought bunches from the street 
fakirs for twenty-five and fifty cents, and as 
for the other violets which older people got 
from the florists’, she had never given a 
thought to their cost. 

“ Two-forty-five,” he repeated with a pleas- 
ant smile. The surprised expression on the 
face of this opulent looking little girl seemed 
rather amusing to him. 

It was not at all diverting to Beth Anne, 
however, and as she took out her purse, she 
was in a panic for fear she might not have 


JIN NT GOES TO SCHOOL 207 

enough to satisfy this rapacious person with 
the smooth smile. Fortunately, her allow- 
ance of two dollars per month had just been 
paid last night, and Mrs. Burton had, the day 
before, loaned her half a dollar to buy Jinny 
some trifle as keepsake. Beth Anne thanked 
her stars that she had forgotten to buy the 
linen collar she had intended getting. She 
was saved from public exposure, though she 
knew that the violets meant a whole month 
of privation. 

She laid the money on the counter with a 
magnificent air. 

“ You may keep the change,” she said, 
grandly, as she had heard her father say to 
waiters or newsboys, and picking up her 
violets, she began to move away. 

“ Hold on ! ” said the man, sharply. “ This 
ain't any a'mshouse. Take your change," 
and he flung a nickel on the zinc counter 
with a snap. 

Beth Anne was obliged to take it up, but 
she preserved her superior air, holding her 


208 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


head very high, and walking off briskly with 
her purchase. 

Jinny was overwhelmed with the magnitude 
of the gift, for she knew much better than 
Beth Anne the value of things. 

Beth Anne sighed pensively as she sniffed 
the costly fragrance. 

“ Ah, Jinny dear,” she said, modestly, 
“ you’ll never know what they mean to me ! 

“ There, they make you perfectly sweet,” 
she told her, and Mrs. Burton, who had been 
watching the two with her gentle smile, 
agreed that the bunch of violets was just the 
touch that Jinny’s new suit needed to make 
it perfect. 

“ I am glad you thought of them,” she told 
Beth Anne, whose head was beginning to 
toss. “ We had supplied her with everything 
but flowers, and it is always lovely to have 
something fresh and fragrant in the stuffy 
train.” 

Mr. Burton had been busy with the baggage- 
master, and now he turned to them again. 


JINNT GOES TO SCHOOL 209 

“Train’s made up and waiting,” he said, 
briskly, evidently fearing Beth Anne’s grief. 

Jinny stopped at the gate for one long fran- 
tic hug, and Beth Anne almost broke down 
as she kissed her, but the sight of the violets 
half crushed in the embrace restored her to a 
more level frame of mind. 

“ Write to me straight off, mind now,” she 
said, straightening the disarranged flowers 
with a careful hand. “ And don’t make any 
really-for-truly friends till you tell me all 
about them. I’ll tell you everything that I’m 
doing, too. I suppose you’ll like to know.” 

“ Indeed and indeed, I will ! ” cried Jinny, 
with fervor. 

Beth Anne patted her shoulder and, giving 
her another hard kiss, pushed her through the 
gate, where Mr. Burton was waiting with her 
suit-case and sweater. 

“ Now they’re really off at last,” sighed 
Beth Anne, as the engine gave its preparatory 
snort, and the long line of cars began to move. 
“ I do hope Father tells us every single word 


2io BETH ANNE HERSELF 


about the whole trip. I’m perfectly crazy to 
know just what Brighton is like. Doesn’t 
Jinny look lovely in her regular-people’s 
clothes, Munnie dear? You couldn’t think 
she’d ever lived in Carter Street, could 
you?” 

“ It isn’t all the clothes, my dear,” answered 
Mrs. Burton, as she stepped into the elevator. 
“ Jinny has found her place in the world, and 
she is going to fill it beautifully.” 

This puzzled Beth Anne a bit, but she was 
too much taken up with the other people in 
the elevator to analyze the words. Strange to 
say, she was feeling more like her old free self 
again than she had for some days. The little 
cold spot in her heart which had flared into 
jealousy so easily during the last week was 
gone, and she felt only love and tenderness to 
the departing Jinny. 

“ I guess she’ll do everything beautifully,” 
she agreed, sunnily. “ Don’t you think she’s 
going to be terribly clever? David says she’s 
as quick as a flash with history, and I know I 


JINNT GOES TO SCHOOL 21 1 

didn’t have a bit of trouble teaching her a part 
in the play I’m doing now.” 

Mrs. Burton nodded, smiling at Beth Anne’s 
eagerness. 

“ I think she is going to make us all very 
proud of her,” she said as the elevator stopped. 
“ And I am glad to see that you, too, Beth 
Anne, have not been slow in learning a lesson 
of unselfishness and kindness. I know that 
the violets must have made a hole in your al- 
lowance, and I am thankful that my own lit- 
tle girl is quick in putting her new lesson to 
good use.” 

Beth Anne’s head was wagging as they got 
into another taxi for home, and she could 
hardly wait to get to her blue study to put 
down all the important events of the morning 
in her waiting diary. 

u Life is dull and dark and dreary 
Without Virginia, sweet and dear-y,” 

she wrote with a great deal of self-approval, 
and ended her very graphic account of the 


212 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


parting at the station with the declaration 
that life without Jinny was going to be pretty 
dull, “ for sure, particularly as I have spent 
all my month’s allowance at one lick. & I owe 
Mother 50 cts. intoo the bargaine." 

Beth Anne was not strong on spelling, but 
she was a true prophetess, for the days did 
drag, and even Mr. Burton’s favorable account 
of Brighton and Jinny’s quarters there only 
made Beth Anne lonelier than ever. 

A week later she wrote : 

“ It is a long time since anything real big 
and exprestive happened. I wish things 
would hump up and happen. I’m just about 
worn out with trying to be terribly good, and 
save enough to pay back that 50 cts. I guess 
I’ll have to go out and carrie baskets for peo- 
ple, if I don't get a chance to make money 
pretty soon. I’d die rather than let any one 
know how frightfully generous I have been. 
Poverty is awful." 

It was the very next day to that one of 
lamentation that Beth Anne got her chance. 


CHAPTER XIII 


BETH ANNE HAS A DREAM 

Late the next afternoon Beth Anne learned 
something really important in regard to banks. 

She had been waiting for her mother, who 
was out, to return, and had curled up on the 
library couch, and so fallen fast asleep and 
dreamed a lot of queer dreams. 

In the last dream of all, the firelight played 
on the library wall while her mother’s voice 
mingled with her father’s in talk of stocks 
and bonds, and other perplexing things. 
They sounded troubled and serious, and Beth 
Anne felt uneasy in her dream. 

“ But even then, Ted dear,” her mother’s 
voice was saying, “ it cannot be real poverty, 
for we always have your work to fall back 
on.” 

“ Not real poverty,” her father’s voice 

agreed, gravely. “Not poverty of any sort. 

213 


214 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

But we can't keep up the two houses, with 
the five servants and the horses and machines, 
in the way we have been doing. We shall 
have to make a choice of what we want to do 
without for this year. It will not be forever, 
you know." 

“ We shall get the money back in time, 
shall we not ? ” asked the other voice. 

“ They say so at the bank, but we can only 
count on what we actually have. My work 
is, as you know, good for a very comfortable 
living, but it would be impossible to stretch 
it over all we are doing now." 

“ Shall we be able to keep George and Car'- 
line? " she asked. 

“ Easily. I am afraid we must do without 
the two maids and Jackson. I hope you 
won't find it too hard, Carol ! " 

There was a little laugh that almost woke 
Beth Anne, and her mother's voice said, cheer- 
fully : 

“ I think it will be rather a lark. You 
know how I love to rough it. Why can't 


BETH ANNE HAS A DREAM 215 

we rent the two houses and travel for a 
while?” 

“ I've got those panels ” began her 

father's voice, when the firelight faded to a 
blur in Beth Anne's dream, and the voices 
drifted into a confused murmur, as she lost 
the firelit picture in another dream. 

When she came back to it again, the soft 
voice was saying, “ I have always wanted a 
winter in the real country, and it will be the 
best thing in the world for your work. So 
that settles it ! " 

Beth Anne rubbed her eyes trying to de- 
cide whether she were really asleep or not. 
Yawning, she lost the answer, but caught the 
next sentence. 

“ You can rent this town house if you want 
to, Ted, or you can loan it to Aunt Hannah 
for the rest of the season ; whatever you do 
will satisfy me, for I am going to have a 
whole year at Gable End.'' 

Beth Anne promptly woke up. 

“ Oh, you dearest-sweetest ! ” she cried, 


2 1 6 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


digging both fists in her eyes to speed the 
awaking. “ I’m going, too 1 Hurrah for 
Gable End ! ” 

“ Mercy, Beth Anne, how you startled me ! ” 
exclaimed her mother, peering into the dusk. 
“ Where are you ? ” 

“ Here on the couch, and I thought I was 
asleep until I heard you say 1 Gable End,’ and 
then I knew it was really-for-truly talk, and 
not dream people.” 

“ No, we are very real indeed,” replied her 
mother, gaily. “ How much did you hear? ” 

Beth Anne struggled with another yawn, 
and then said, seriously, “Just enough to 
know that we’ve lost some money somehow, 
and that we’re going to the dear old country. 
I’m gladder than even you are, Mother. 
When do we start? ” 

Her father came over to the couch and drew 
her into his arms, ruffling her hair with ten- 
der hands. 

“ Are you willing, Snippet, to go to the 
cold, snowy country ? ” 


BETH ANNE HAS A DREAM 217 

She nodded vehemently. 

“ And to do without Pony Boy ? ” he added. 

She hesitated, for her pony was very dear to 
her. “ Well/ 7 she said, slowly, “ if you 
really are so very poor as that, I suppose I 
might keep him at Shipley's stable, and pay 
for him out of my allowance." 

He laughed. “ Where are you going to get 
an allowance ? ” he asked. 

Then Beth Anne had a swift picture of the 
realities of poverty. The change in their 
prospects grew tragic to her. 

“ Shall I have to wear a shawl and sell 
shoe-laces, like Martha in ‘ The Orphan's 
Pride ' ? " 

Both her father and mother laughed, and 
he replied, “ Not quite so bad as that. I 
think you may keep him in our own stable, if 
you try not to wear out his shoes." 

She nodded eagerly. “ I could take him on 
the soft side-paths," she began, and then 
realized that he had been joking with her. 
She drew a long breath of relief. “ I'm so 


2 1 8 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


glad I don’t have to try to make money sell- 
ing shoe-laces,” she sighed. “ For I’m not 
very good on counting up change — and most 
people wear buttoned shoes now, anyway.” 

Her father did not answer her ; instead he 
turned to Mrs. Burton. “ Carol,” he said, 
impulsively, “ are you really willing to rent 
the house ? Williams asked me yesterday if I 
knew of any place in this section of town with 
studio and grounds.” 

“ Of course I want to go,” she cried. “ I’ll 
go as soon as we can pack up ! Do see Mr. 
Williams right away, for I want to get to 
Gable End while there is lots of snow there.” 

Beth Anne slipped from her father’s lap, 
and danced over to her chair. Dropping be- 
side her on the floor, she put her arms about 
the slender waist. 

“ Oh, dearest-sweetest ! ” she cried. “ You’re 
the loveliest mother in the world ! I’m so 
glad I belong to you, instead of some glumpy 
person who’d stick here forever. Let’s go 
right away I ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


GOOD-BYE TO TOWN 

It was a week to the very day that the big 
vans drew up in front of the house in King 
Street. 

Everything had been arranged most satis- 
factorily. The Williams family, old friends 
of the Burtons, were anxious to move in at 
once, and Mrs. Burton had declared herself 
delighted to hurry her packing. Mr. Burton 
and George had left the day before for the 
country house to make it ready for occupancy. 
The servants had been sent away. The crates 
of china, together with some of the pictures 
and furniture, were waiting in the wide hall, 
all ready for their journey out into the coun- 
try, when the three large vans with the camel 
painted on their sides pulled up in front of the 
house. The morning was bitterly cold, with a 

wind straight from the northeast, and masses 
219 


220 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

of gray clouds flung heavily across the pale 
wintry blue of the chilly sky, and the men, 
muffled though they were, complained of the 
nipping frost in the air. 

Beth Anne, hopping down-stairs, stopped on 
the landing. The sight of the men busy in the 
hall below brought home to her in startling 
distinctness the realization that this pleasant 
home was no longer hers to come and go in at 
will. 

“ I’ll never race any one up again this year,” 
she thought sadly. “ Those Williamses are too 
old to do anything but creep, I suppose, be- 
cause I heard Father say Mr. Williams was 
past forty. I’m glad they haven’t any chil- 
dren, for I just couldn’t bear to think of any 
one but Debe and me racing on our stairs. 
For,” she added vehemently, “ they are our 
stairs in spite of everything ! ” 

“ What is it, chick ? ” asked Mrs. Burton, 
noticing her gloom, and Beth Anne flew down, 
repentant of her ugly thoughts, and reveling 
in the turmoil that occupied the hall. She 


GOOD-BTE TO TOWN 221 


flattered past the hurrying men, and out to 
the dining-room, where breakfast was laid for 
two. She buttered her mother’s toast for her, 
poured her coffee while Car’line brought the 
eggs from the kitchen ; and then she ran out 
into the hall and brought her busy mother 
in to the tempting breakfast, all with the 
pleasantest manner possible. 

Mrs. Burton sank gratefully into her chair. 
She had been up very early and was feeling 
tired. 

“ I’m glad it hasn’t begun to snow,” she 
said looking anxiously at the gray sky. “ It 
seems too bad to take those horses out so far 
in this weather, but since the moving people 
won’t let us have the vans in this snow, I 
suppose we’ll have to try not to think of the 
poor beasts.” 

“ Maybe it won’t snow any more,” suggested 
Beth Anne hopefully. “ It won’t be so awfully 
hard for the horses then, will it?” 

Mrs. Burton gave an absent negative and 
breakfast began. 


222 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Beth Anne made herself very useful, and 
though she often wished that Jinny might see 
and hear her helpful words and deeds, her 
mind was much on the weather. Her moth- 
er’s words at breakfast had wakened her ro- 
mantic spirit and the horses played a large 
part in her day-dreams as she flitted about 
importantly. 

The threatened snow did not fall, however, 
till long after the big vans had gone off, and 
the house was closed, and, with Car’line in 
her best black, they stood waiting for the car. 

“ Good-bye, dear house,” she said, blowing 
a kiss to it. “ We’ll see you again, — next 
year perhaps.” 

Her pleasant spirit bore her through the 
rather dull interval of the long slow ride on 
the accommodation train, and made the trip 
very short for her. For being very well sat- 
isfied with herself, she snuggled down into a 
charming day-dream, leaving her mother and 
Car’line, who sat behind them, to rest, instead 
of chattering to them as she usually did. 


GOOD-BTE TO TOWN 223 

“ I really am very sensible, and quite un- 
selfish,” she thought, approvingly. “ Of 
course, I’m cross sometimes, but everybody 
is that way. I wonder why people don’t 
talk about my good works the way they do 
about Jinny’s.” She paused to melt a peep- 
hole in the frosty pane. “ I suppose if I’d 
rescue some one as she did — if the train 
would run off the track now and I’d save 
three or four people — then they’d see how 
noble I could be.” 

She spent the rest of the ride in a delightful 
day-dream, wherein she played the leading 
part in a disastrous train wreck, moving with 
swift and certain feet where all the experi- 
enced train hands were afraid to go, cutting 
her way through the wreckage to a blazing 
corner where a mother and three small chil- 
dren lay unconscious. She saw herself with 
bleeding hands tear them from their perilous 
position ; staggering under their inert forms 
she made the dangerous journey to safety 
with one after another, and when she laid the 


224 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

baby in its recovering mother’s arms, she 
heard with tears of gratitude the mighty cheer 
that went up from the rest of the passengers 
who had stood huddled in a frightened group, 
watching eagerly her every movement. 

She sniffed audibly, and her mother, mis- 
taking her emotion for grief at leaving town, 
patted her hand. 

“ Never mind, dearest. You mustn’t care 
so much. There is plenty of fun ahead, and 
we are not leaving it forever.” 

Beth Anne came out of her dream and into 
real life with a jolt. She saw the station at 
Centerville growing nearer and larger, as the 
train swept around the last curve with every 
car intact and all the passengers alive and 
whole, and instead of an applauded heroine 
she found herself an ordinary little girl, who 
had to be helped into her coat just as usual. 

They got out in a great bustle, for Beth 
Anne’s umbrella caught in the iron seat-end, 
blocking their progress for a whole minute, 
and then, as she rushed down the aisle, it 


GOOD-BTE TO TOWN 225 

knocked an old gentleman’s hat off, and so 
took another minute for apologies ; but at 
last they were on the snowy platform, with 
the station agent waving them a greeting from 
the freight-house, where he was receiving 
baggage. 

“ Run and see if our trunks have come,” 
said Mrs. Burton, picking her way to the 
waiting-room. “ I will find Cale and get seats 
in the stage.” 

Beth Anne was back again in a twinkling. 
“ They’re all here,” she panted. “ Cale is over 
at the freight-house, and he says he’ll take 
them up this afternoon, if you want him to.” 

The stage was waiting at the back of the 
station, the bob-tailed brown horse patiently 
rubbing the snow from his eyes against the 
pillar where he was tied. 

The stage had its curtains down, and enter- 
ing it from the glare of the snowy outside 
was very like climbing into a dark closet, 
with the passengers on the top shelf ; for 
the roof was so low that one could hardly sit 


226 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


erect, particularly if one had a good sized 
hat on. 

One of the two other passengers already 
seated behind the Burtons had just such a 
hat, and to add to her discomfort it had a stiff 
green wing standing up very straight, which 
kept scraping the roof at every turn of her 
head. She was a tall, narrow faced person, 
dressed in her best black. Her companion 
was a small crumpled old woman, whose 
wrinkled red face seemed to radiate good 
humor, in great contrast to the severe counte- 
nance of the other. 

Beth Anne gave her mother a nudge. “ It’s 
Miss Carrie and Angeline,” she whispered. 

Mrs. Burton turned quickly. “ Why, Miss 
Carrie ! How do you do ? I did not recognize 
you back there in the dark. And Angeline, 
— how is she? ” 

Miss Carrie smiled grimly, showing a set of 
very badly fitted false teeth. 

“ Well as usual, thank you,’’ she replied. 
“ We ain’t complainin’ none. But lands, 


GOOD-BTE TO TOWN 227 

there’s lots a body could ask for if the chance 
was give.” 

“ I suppose most of us feel that way,” agreed 
Mrs. Burton mildly. 

Miss Carrie was about to speak again, when 
Cale put his ruddy, lined face in at the door- 
flap. 

“ Here’s a telegram for you, Miss Carrie,” 
he said, touching his cap rim to Mrs. Burton. 
“ Charlie was goin’ to ’phone up, but I told 
him you was in here.” 

Miss Carrie took the yellow slip in a flutter. 
“ Wonder who in nation’s writin’ to me like 
this,” she said, tearing it open. 

Then as she read, she tossed her head im- 
patiently, rubbing the feathers on the green 
wing all the wrong way. 

“ Well, if that ain’t like a man ! ” she 
snapped. 

To Angeline, who had been looking on in 
passive curiosity, she shouted : 

“ It’s from Cousin Jont ! He’s a-comin’ for 
a visit ! Bight away ! ” 


228 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


Angeline nodded, contracting all her 
wrinkles wisely. 

“ Old DuPont, hey?” she commented in 
her loud voice. “ Goin’ away, is he ? What 
in nation’s he writin’ to you about it for ? ” 

Beth Anne had to choke to keep from 
laughing, for old DuPont was the rag and old 
iron man who lived alone on the mountain 
near Gilead Meeting. 

Miss Carrie reddened angrily, and shouted 
louder than ever. 

“ Cousin Jont ! Cousin Jontl Cornin’ on 
Tuesdee ! ” 

Angeline nodded again, sadly. “ You don’t 
say. Too bad. When did you say he died ? ” 

Miss Carrie put her lips close to her ear. 
“ He didn’t die ! He’s cornin’ to see us, — 
right now ! ” 

At last Angeline understood. 

“ Lands sakes I ” she cried, struggling to 
rise. “ Let’s git home. We don’t want he 
should be intertained in a public wehicle.” 

Beth Anne could not repress a giggle, but 


GOOD-BTE TO TOWN 229 

no one noticed it. Angeline insisted on get- 
ting out and walking home, while Miss Carrie 
and Mrs. Burton shouted soothing sentences 
at the top of their lungs. 

The stage was stopped a couple of times by 
women who ran out from their gates with an 
apron thrown about their shoulders and a 
parcel in their hands for Cale to leave at the 
store or some house along the way. These 
interruptions diverted Angeline at last, and 
the latter part of the trip was made in com- 
parative ease and sociability, although the 
Carvers were still discussing Cousin Jont’s 
untimely visit when they got out at the store. 

“ I hear you’re cornin’ up for good,” Cale 
said over his shoulder to Beth Anne, as he 
turned Bobby’s head toward Gable End. 

“ Yes, isn’t it splendid ! ” she cried, peeping 
out. “ Oh, Mother, look ! Isn’t it different 
in the snow ? I hardly knew the village, and 
Gable End looks like a strange house, with 
the box-bushes and spruces all white. Oh, 
I’m so glad we’re here ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 

GABLE END 

The great chimneys were smoking a wel- 
come, and the whole house had an air of 
pleasant expectancy, not at all like what 
Beth Anne had looked for. When they had 
left it in the fall with its shutters closed and 
doors boarded up, she had thought it very 
lonely and desolate looking, and she was 
prepared to find it in much the same state, 
with the added dreariness of the gloomy day 
upon it. 

“ Why, it looks just like itself again ! ” she 
said wonderingly, as they got out on the 
stepping-stone. 

“That’s good,” said Mr. Burton. “I am 
mighty anxious to have you admire our work. 
Don’t you think the place looks shipshape ? ” 

“ You’ve done wonders,” said Mrs. Burton, 

230 


GABLE END 


231 

gratefully, giving her wraps and hand-bag to 
the smiling George, who had been waiting in 
the hall. “ You must have had an army of 
cleaners at work.” 

Beth Anne, who had flung off her fur coat 
and hat, raced off on a tour of inspection of 
the house, with the delighted spaniel Toby 
careering at her heels. 

“ Everything looks just as it always did,” 
she confided to Toby, as she ended the circuit 
of the rooms. “ Only it is cozier with the 
big fires burning, and the warm rugs down. 
Isn’t it jolly, Toby-poby? And aren’t you 
glad we came out from the stuffy old city to 
your nice white clean country ? ” 

Mr. and Mrs. Burton were talking of house- 
hold matters as Beth Anne entered and, curled 
up on the window seat, listened with only one 
ear until one sentence caught her attention. 

“ The teams will have a tough time of it, 
since you say they had only two horses to each 
van,” her father was saying. 

At once her mind was traveling down the 


232 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

hilly road to town, the first ten miles of which 
she knew quite well. She could picture as 
she gazed out into the snowy garden with un- 
seeing eyes the teams struggling up the long 
hill at Hartsville. 

She saw the men on the steep hill, urging 
the tired horses through the deepening snow. 
No detail of the scene was lost, — she could see 
the traces tighten as the panting beasts made 
another effort. 

“ Oh, the poor things ! ” she murmured. 

“ What is it ? ” asked her mother from the 
fireside. 

“ I was thinking of those poor horses,” she 
replied, waking to realities. “ Do you think 
they can get up Coifs hill in this snow ? ” 

“ I suppose they will have to take the 
horses out, and put them all to each van in 
turn,” her father said. “ It will be slow work, 
but it is about the only way to do it.” 

“ I wonder if the men know how ? ” she 
said doubtfully. 

He smiled. “ It is their daily business, 


GABLE END 


2 33 

Snippet. They probably understand it better 
than we could teach them.” 

He turned to Mrs. Burton with other topics, 
and Beth Anne went back to her day-dream, 
in which she had already found her chance to 
act the part of rescuing angel. She would 
find the perishing group on the frozen high- 
way, and with food and succor when they 
least expected it would prove to them and all 
the world, — her mother included— that she 
was made of nobler stuff than they had given 
her credit for. 

She heard nothing more of the talk till her 
father spoke to her again. 

“ You’ll have a fine chance to try your 
snow-shoes, Snippet,” he said. “ The wind 
has changed and there's a good crust on the 
snow. It looks like clearing to me. You 
must take a turn on them to see if you re- 
member how.” 

Beth Anne was instantly aroused, and the 
vans forgotten. 

“ Of course I can work them,” she cried, 


234 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

scornfully. “ I used to go miles at the Coun- 
try Club ! ” 

He laughed. “ And that was only two 
weeks ago. Of course you can do magnifi- 
cently on the level, but these hills ” 

“ Pooh, they’re nothing ! ” she declared, her 
eyes sparkling. “Just wait till after lunch 
and I’ll show you ! ” 

She could hardly wait for the meal to be 
over and her skating togs on, so impatient 
was she to be out in the glorious air, where 
the sun breaking through the dull clouds 
made a sparkle and splendor of the white 
hard crust that spread in an unbroken sheet 
over the hills and fields. 

“ I’ll go down the Town Road to see the 
Hammonds,” she planned. “ I suppose Bess 
will be in school, but I’ll see Mrs. Hammond 
and the baby anyway.” 

“ Don’t stay more than five minutes,” cau- 
tioned Mrs. Burton. “ You’ll get cold, — all 
wrapped up as you are.” 

Beth Anne promised, and kissing them 


GABLE END 


235 

good-bye skimmed off over the glittering crust 
with a swoop of her slim legs. 

Mr. Burton looked after her with a laugh. 

“ Snippet seems to be snow-mad,” he said. 
“ I hope she has a good time this first day at 
old Gable End.” 

“ Trust her to enjoy herself,” said Mrs. 
Burton, who was unpacking trunks in the 
upper hall. “ I suppose she is in one of her 
make-believes and having a glorious time.” 

The short winter afternoon was drawing to 
its close when Mrs. Burton, stowing the last of 
Beth Anne's dresses in the chiffonier, paused 
to glance out at the darkening landscape. 

“ Where is Beth Anne, Ted ? ” she called to 
her husband, who had just come in from the 
village. 

“ I don't know,” he called back carelessly. 
“ She isn't down-stairs here. She must be in 
the kitchen with Car’line.” 

Mrs. Burton rang, but there was no Beth 
Anne to be found in the kitchen or pantry. 
Neither George nor Car'line had seen her 


236 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

since she went off after lunch on her snow- 
shoes. 

“ She simply must be in the house,” de- 
clared Mr. Burton. “ For she always comes 
back before twilight. You know how scary 
she is about the dusk.” 

Mrs. Burton made a hurried search of the 
upper regions to no avail, while Mr. Burton 
turned over the cushions on the hall bench, 
and peered under the tables as though Beth 
Anne might be hidden away like a stray 
pussy. 

“ She must be at the Hammonds’, then,” 
suggested Mrs. Burton. “ Call them up, 
Ted. I am surprised at her, — after my in- 
junctions.” 

The Hammonds reported Beth Anne as 
having stayed the prescribed five minutes and 
having offered to go to Edwards’s on an errand 
for Mrs. Hammond, and not being seen to re- 
turn. Mrs. Hammond thought she must have 
taken the short cut home, and was surprised 
to learn that she was still out. 


GABLE END 


2 3 7 

“ The Edwards 'phone is broken, but she 
says she’ll send Tom right over and see if 
she’s there,” added Mr. Burton, hanging up 
the receiver. 

They waited ten miserable minutes for the 
bell to ring, and its tinkle brought them no 
comfort. Jim Edwards had taken the mes- 
sage from Beth Anne early in the afternoon, 
but remembered having told her that Amos, 
— to whom she was to give the commis- 
sion in person, — was at Bushington, not 
to return till supper-time. He had been 
surprised to see Beth Anne turn down 
the road instead of up, but thought she 
was going around by way of the Cummins 
house. 

“ They all do a lot of thinking to no pur- 
pose, it seems,” said Mr. Burton, calling up 
the hotel at Bushington. “ I’ll find out if I 
can what road she actually has taken.” 

No one at the tavern had any news of Beth 
Anne. The hostler, who had been the only 
one out-of-doors at the time she might have 


238 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

passed, had gone on an errand to Hilltown 
and would not be back for another hour. 

Mrs. Burton broke down at this, and wept 
silently for a moment, and then she set her 
lips, rising from the step on which she had 
been sitting. 

“ You had better get the sleigh from the 
hotel, Ted,” she said. “ It will be quicker. 
I will get robes and some cordial for you to 
take, in case ” 

She did not finish the sentence, but went 
hurriedly off for the wraps, while Mr. Burton 
put on his coat and started for the hotel. 

The sleigh jingled up after what seemed an 
eternity of waiting, and Mrs. Burton, putting 
the wraps on her husband’s arm with hands 
that trembled, tried to smile encouragement. 

“Isn’t it just like her to go off on a wild- 
goose chase after those horses ? ” she said, 
bravely, as she opened the door for him. The 
sight of the wide white landscape, silvering 
in the rising moonlight, made her shiver. 

He stopped to pat her shoulder. “ It will 


GABLE END 


239 

come out all right,” he said soothingly, noting 
the tears in her anxious eyes, and then he 
added as he flung the robes into the sleigh and 
sprang in, “ Thank goodness there’s a moon.” 

The thought of Beth Anne lost and perhaps 
freezing thrust itself into both their minds, 
and Car’line, coming suddenly from the back 
of the hall where she had been lurking, gave 
a low groan. 

14 My chile’s gone and done fer this time, 
shore,” she wailed. “She can’t never git 
foun’ twict hand-runnin’.” 

“ Hush, Car’line,” said Mrs. Burton gently, 
though she turned pale at the words. “ We 
will wait and hope.” 

“ I’ll stick to the Town Road, and I’ll ’phone 
as soon as I get her,” called Mr. Burton, gath- 
ering up the reins. 

The sleigh drove off with a merry jingle of 
bells that grated on the ears of the two who 
were left behind in miserable suspense to wait 
the outcome of Beth Anne’s wild goose chase. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE BETH ANNE RELIEF EXPEDITION 

Beth Anne, for her part, had a most excit- 
ing time. 

She was wrapped up so warmly that she felt 
no cold, and her flight over the sparkling 
snow-carpet sent the blood tingling along her 
veins and glowing into her cheeks, as she 
coasted down-hill and floundered and panted 
up, taking to the meadows where the road was 
too much drifted. 

Mrs. Hammond was just dressing the baby 
for the afternoon when she kicked off her 
snow-shoes on the porch and rushed in on 
them ; and the surprise and gaiety of the greet- 
ings added to Beth Anne’s zest for adventure. 
She asked all about Bess and Tom and the 
others, and then after her five minutes were 
up she rose. 


240 


THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 241 

“ I’m going down the road a little farther ; 

do you want anything ” she began, when 

Mrs. Hammond made a gesture of relief. 

“ Could you take a message to Amos Ed- 
wards? ” she asked. “ Their ’phone is broken 
and I simply must get it to him before half- 
past three. I’ll give you the note, and you 
can merely drop it into their box. He’ll get 
it on his way out.” 

Beth Anne protested her delight in the com- 
mission, and Mrs. Hammond hastily wrote the 
note. 

“ You may put it into their box or give it to 
any of the family,” she said, giving it to Beth 
Anne. “ Stop in and see Bess on your way 
home. She’ll be back before four, you know.” 

Beth Anne agreed, and then sped off on her 
errand, tucking the cakes and sandwiches 
which Mrs. Hammond gave her into her pocket 
for future use. 

The first mile was easy going, and she almost 
passed the Edwards place without recognizing 
it in its winter dress. Jim Edwards at the 


242 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

wood-lot hailed her, with a shout of laughter 
at her gay Canadian suit. 

“ Where you goin’, Miss Canuck?” he called, 
and Beth Anne came to an astonished halt. 

“ Didn’t know whether you was you or not,” 
said Jim, twinkling at her from under his fur 
cap and balancing his saw on its horse. 

Beth Anne giggled. “ You look mighty 
funny yourself,” she retorted gaily. “ Where’s 
your Uncle Amos ? ” 

“ Gone to the Bush,” replied Jim. “ Wasn’t 
expectin’ you. Maybe you wouldn’t know 
him either in his winter rig. He’s twict as 
outrageous lookin’ as yours truly. He’s got a 
red cap ” 

“ Oh, please take this note to him,” said 
Beth Anne, breathlessly. “ Mrs. Hammond 
wants him to have it before half-past three.” 

Jim took the note and felt it carefully. 
“ All right,” he said, putting it into his pocket. 
“ I guess I’ll have to gear up and catch him 
at Hilltown. He’s goin’ to town, and he’s left 
the Bush by this.” 


THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 243 

Beth Anne saw him hurry off to the barn, 
and while she hesitated, resting a little before 
she began her return trip, the sight of the gray 
mare that Jim was leading out made her start. 

“ What about those poor horses with the 
vans ? ” she thought, electrified at the thought 
that she must be very near to them now. She 
had come a good three miles down the road 
up which they were to travel from town, and 
they should be in sight, — if she went up the 
hill to the next turn. 

“ I’ll just go a little farther, and if I find 
them perishing in the drifts, I can come back 
and get Jim to help,” she planned, starting 
off at once on her quest. 

She swept up the hill and around the curve 
in fine style, but the vans were not in sight. 
Her purpose grew stronger at every stride, 
however, and by the time she had reached the 
edge of the down-grade she was fully deter- 
mined to try the part of rescuing angel. 

“ I may never, never have another chance 
to rescue any one again, ” she thought, tremu- 


244 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

ious with eagerness. “ Jinny has lots of 
chances, but poor me, — I only get one. And 
I'm going to take it ! ” 

So she sped on in a glorious dream of which 
she was the principal figure, and although her 
snow-shoe came untied on the next hill, and 
her chilled fingers fumbled slowly with the 
troublesome knots, she was not at all deterred, 
but started off again in high hopes of what the 
turn of the road might reveal. 

“ Lucky I got those cakes and sandwiches,” 
she exulted. “ I guess it was Fate that made 
me forget to eat them. It’s a sign that I’ll 
meet the teams.” 

The sun dropped low behind the purple- 
brown line of the western hills, sending chilly 
shadows across the road, but she had no idea 
of turning back. She was headed for the 
tavern at Bushington, where news must be had 
of them if they were safe. 

“ If they aren’t at the Bush, they’re stuck in 
a drift or something,” she decided sagely. 

When the great golden disc slipped behind 


THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 245 

the tall pines of Hooper’s Hill she had for- 
gotten all about her fear of the oncoming twi- 
light, so possessed was she by her dream of 
rescue. She drew up at “ Rural Retreat ’’just 
as the lemon-colored light faded to a blur in 
the turquoise of the serene western sky. 

She hailed the man who was filling a 
bucket at the tied-up pump. 

“ Have any teams, — moving vans, — come 
by here ? ” she panted, excitedly. 

The man looked her over, slowly fumbling 
with the rag on the nozzle of the pump. 

“ Where’d you drop from with them con- 
traptions on yer feet? ” he demanded, huskily, 
staring at her snow-shoes with heavy curiosity. 

Beth Anne wriggled with impatience. 

“ Never mind where I come from,” she 
flashed. “ Tell me if the vans are here? ” 

He gaped at her a moment and then 
drawled, “ Wans ? Wot wans ? Ain’t no 
wans here ” 

Beth Anne was off before he finished, and 
although he bawled after her in quickened 


246 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

accents, “ Hey, wot’s your name? Where 
you a-goin’ to ? ” she was already beyond the 
sound of his voice, going with triumphant 
certainty on her “ rescue.” 

The moon flung growing shadows on her 
road now, and a little fear creeping up in her 
heart almost made her shiver, but the glorious 
hope of dazzling her friends and family with 
an heroic deed kept her moving swiftly on. 

She flew on in a great spurt of speed, forget- 
ful of fatigue and the growing desire for dinner 
that was beginning to make itself felt. 

“ I'll go around this corner, and then ” 

she broke off with a gasp, for as she swung the 
corner, there in the mingled after-glow and 
moonlight stood the vans, deep in the rutted 
snow. 

“ My gracious me ! ” she whispered, and 
came to a standstill in front of the first big 
motionless vehicle. 

The driver, peering out from his high seat, 
called to the man fumbling at the harness of 
the second team of exhausted horses. 



‘‘i am not an Indian” 

























• • 
















































■ 


















THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 247 

“ Hey, Bill, here’s an Injun ! ” he shouted. 

Beth Anne’s anger flared. This was far 
from the greeting she had planned to receive. 
She drew herself up and spoke with great 
dignity. 

“ I am not an Indian,” she said, severely. 
“ I am Beth Anne Burton, and I have come 
to rescue the horses, — and you, too, if you 
need it,” she added, relenting a little as she 
saw how weary and frozen they looked. 

The man laughed a tired laugh. “ I guess 
the horses ain’t any worse off than usual, 
sissy. They’re only a bit blowed. But Jack 
here,” nodding to the muffled figure beside 
him, “ is played out with the cold, and as we 
ain’t got a bit of anything to hearten him up, 
we’re just waitin’ till a horse can be got out 
to take him somewheres. Maybe you can tell 
us where the next tavern is. There ain’t been 
a soul on this here lively highway fer an hour 
or more.” 

Beth Anne’s heart leaped within her. Here 
was her chance indeed. 


248 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ I have bread and cake in my pocket,” she 
cried. “ Wouldn’t he like some? ” 

“ You bet he would,” responded the man 
called Bill. “ He’s most froze, and it ’ud warm 
him up good. You’re the sort, I tell you ! ” 

Beth Anne waggled her head triumphantly 
as she passed the food over to him, and 
watched him climb up on the wheel to hand 
it to the driver. 

She felt very much pleased with herself for 
persevering in her quest when she saw how 
very far gone poor Jack really was. It took 
the combined exertions of the driver and Bill 
to get him to eat the sandwiches and cake, 
which Bill sawed off in chunks with a huge 
knife he had. 

She watched in silence until she saw that 
the poor fellow was beginning to thaw out 
and eat with relish. She was thinking all 
the while : 

“ Now maybe Mother will believe that I’m 
unselfish ! ” 

She hugged herself in an ecstasy of impor- 


THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 249 

tance, and would have hopped up and down 
but for her snow-shoes. 

When Jack had almost finished one bite of 
bread and meat she said aloud : 

“ I'm going back to the Bush for some one 
to come and help. You will have to have 
some more horses, won't you ? " 

The driver nodded. “ If we're goin' to 
reach Centerville to-night," he said. “ These 
here is played out, fur as haulin' is con- 
cerned." 

“ I'll send some one right away," she prom- 
ised, eagerly, and off she flew before a word 
could be said. 

She had no definite plan as to how she 
should finish her expedition, but she knew 
that horses might be got at the tavern, and 
after that, events would shape themselves ; 
she could get home somehow, and whenever 
or however she reached it, she rejoiced in the 
thought that it would be, not as a tired and 
tardy little girl, but as a full-fledged heroine. 

She skimmed along, forgetful of her own 


250 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

fatigue, rejoicing in the success of her plan, 
and not keeping a very sharp eye on the road, 
so that she did not notice the sleigh which 
was approaching until it was quite near, and 
a voice called anxiously : 

“ Beth Anne, is that you ? ” 

Then she stood still on her snow-shoes, feel- 
ing dreadfully tired all at once, but laughing 
with excitement and a delightful sense of her 
own importance. 

“ Yes, indeed, Popsy ! IPs me, sure 
enough ! ” she cried, disdainful of grammar 
on such an occasion. “ And, oh, I’ve got 
such news for you ! ” 

He pulled her into the sleigh — and breath- 
lessly she told her tale. At the first words 
of the disaster he started the horses ahead at 
a brisk pace, while Beth Anne chattered on, 
elaborating with many details, and winding 
up with : 

“There they are, — just as I told you. 
There's Jack, and that's Bill. Now what do 
you think of my rescue ? ” 


THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 251 

“ It’s a real first class one,” he told her 
heartily as he reined up by the vans and had 
a brief conference with the belated men. The 
cordial he had brought for Beth Anne was 
given to Jack, and the man himself put in the 
sleigh ; then with promises to send help and 
further instructions to the men to spend the 
night at the Bush, Mr. Burton turned the 
sleigh, and they were soon speeding for the 
old tavern at the Bush, to telephone Mrs. 
Burton and to send the relief to the teams, 
as well as to secure medical aid for Jack, who 
was too much exhausted to hold up any 
longer. 

After they had left the lights of Bushington 
behind them again and were on the home 
road, Beth Anne burst out joyfully : 

“ So you see I did rescue some one after 
all,” she chirped. “ Jinny isn't the only one. 
I thought all day of the poor horses, and if I 
hadn't gone to them, I guess they'd have been 
pretty well done for by this time.” 

Her father laughed, and then said gravely 


252 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

enough : “ You came along in the nick of 
time, Snippet. That poor fellow was pretty 
far down, and it might have gone hard with 
him to wait while those tired horses stumbled 
through the snow to the Bush. I think we 
can thank your plucky expedition for getting 
him to shelter in time. All the same, I don’t 
want you to give us such a scare again.” 

“ A scare ! ” echoed Beth Anne, in great 
surprise. “ Why, what were you scared 
about, — out here in the safe good country ? ” 

“ People have been frozen to death, — even 
in the nice safe country.” 

Beth Anne cuddled close to him in added 
comfort, — the picture of herself heroically 
stiff and stark in a roadside snow-drift 
diverted her exceedingly. Her eyes were 
dancing with the joy of life and her head 
keeping time to the jingle of the bells. 
Never since that fateful day before Christmas 
when she had beguiled David into Carter 
Street had she known such unalloyed de- 
light. 


THE RELIEF EXPEDITION 253 

“ I rescued them,” she kept repeating to 
herself. “ If Jinny was a heroine for rescu- 
ing a boy and girl, I guess I am, too, for 
rescuing grown-up men ! ” 

She danced into the hall at home with 
all the gaiety bubbling over, and with her 
mother’s arms about her, and her mother’s 
tears of grateful relief on her bright hair, she 
crowed forth her thoughts again. 

“ I saved them after all, Munnie dear. 
Really-for-truly I did ! Aren’t you awfully, 
tor-mendously glad? Isn’t it a perfectly 
splendid beginning for Gable End? And 
don’t you wish Jinny and Debe were here?” 

Mrs. Burton, in her joy at having Beth 
Anne safe and sound in her arms, paid little 
attention to her babblings, and did not notice 
at all the airs of great importance she was 
giving herself. 

Supper was a gay meal, and with Car’line 
and George added to the list of rejoicing 
admirers of her prowess it is little wonder 
that Beth Anne went to bed that night with 


254 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

a very good opinion indeed of herself and her 
attributes. 

In her diary she wrote briefly of the day’s 
doings : 

“ We came out to the country to-day, and I 
rescued the vans, and Mother did not appeer 
to think me much of a Herroine, but Father 
said I was brave. Perhaps Mother will change 
her mind. I hope so. I like the family to 
be congenial.” 

She waggled her head over the last word, 
feeling that she was not only brave but also 
very clever. 

“ I guess I’d rather be brave than to be a 
saint, after all,” she said. “ It’s lots more 
fun. Maybe I’ll keep on doing brave deeds 
and perhaps I’ll get a lot of medals — and 
medals are better than stained glass windows, 
because you can have them while you are 
alive. I hope I can do some noble thing 
to-morrow, too,” and with this high aspira- 
tion she blew out her candles and slipped 
into bed. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 

Beth Anne’s longing after glory was not 
gratified as she had hoped, and after the first 
few days of excited interest in her new sur- 
roundings life at Gable End slipped into the 
regular routine of every-day doings, — school 
and study hours, practice and play. 

Beth Anne found Miss Buckman’s school 
with Bess Hammond and Marjorie Doane very 
much to her liking, and the studies more at- 
tractive than they had been at Miss Marshall’s 
in town. Miss Martha, — and also Beth Anne, 
— sighed over her arithmetic, but was delighted 
with her progress in other branches, declaring 
that “ she just ate up history and geography,” 
a bit of praise that greatly annoyed Beth Anne 
when she heard it some weeks later. 

“ Sounds as if I were a goat,” she complained 
to Bess Hammond, who was helping her dig 
255 


256 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

out problems in the sunny window of the old 
play-room. 

Bess was just as jolly as ever, and Beth Anne 
adored her, but the family of little Hammonds 
kept her at home more in these short winter 
days than suited Beth Anne. 

“ I wish you had a pony like Marjorie and 
me,” she said. “ I don't know Marjorie half 
so well as you, and she’s always talking about 
her grandmother in France, where she spends 
her summers.” 

“ I know,” nodded Bess. “ But she’ll get 
over that. She always does. But she likes 
you a lot, and with Marje that’s all that 
counts. She can be a regular sticking plaster, 
until she finds some one she likes better.” 

“ She has lovely hair,” said Beth Anne, 
thoughtfully. “ And we do have good times 
at her aunt’s in Hartsville. We have tea in 
the parsonage, next to the big church with the 
splendid porch. Marjorie says it isn’t churchly^ 
— the porch, I mean, but I just love it. The 
pillars are so tall and white.” 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 257 

“ I used to go there last year, when Marje 
and I were chums,” said Bess. 

Beth Anne looked surprised. “ Were you 
two chums ? She never told me — why doesn’t 
she go with you this year ? ” 

“ Found some one she likes better, I guess,” 
laughed Bess. 

Beth Anne thought a moment. A speech 
of Marjorie’s came back to her. “ I never 
knew any one so clever as you,” she had said. 
“ And I’m so glad I know you.” And Beth 
Anne, recalling this, said to herself that Mar- 
jorie would never desert her as she had Bess, 
for the reason that she was determined to keep 
on being cleverer and cleverer all the time. 

Aloud she said, “ I guess she likes me be- 
cause I write stories ; she’s used to that, you 
know. Her mother is always writing.” 

“ Does she read the things you write ? ” 
asked Bess. 

“ N-no. We’re always too busy, skating or 
riding or something. But she says she knows 
she’d just adore them if she read them.” 


258 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Bess laughed again. “ That sounds like 
Marje,” she said good-naturedly; and then 
with a swift change of interest she asked, “ Is 
the play done for Saturday ? ” 

Beth Anne collapsed dismally. “ No, it 
isn’t,” she confessed. “ And I don't believe it 
ever will be. I’m almost sorry Father got up 
the Dramatic Club.” 

“ Oh, no, you’re not,” Bess assured her, eas- 
ily. “ You love to act, — same as I do. Get 
your thinking cap on, B. A. B., and finish it 
up. Time flies.” 

“ We-e- 11 , I’ll make another try,” said Beth 
Anne reluctantly. “ But if those boys don’t 
like it, I’ll never ” 

Bess’s hand cut her threat short. “ Don’t 
think about them,” she advised with strong 
contempt. “Just grab your pen and get to 
work.” 

“ All right, I’ll do it right off,” said Beth 
Anne, catching her spirit. “ I’ll cut the 
Sewing Class this afternoon, and go at it ! ” 

Bess ran off down-stairs, and Beth Anne 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 259 

turned to the battered old desk which held a 
jumble of school books, tablets, old paint- 
boxes, and discarded paper dolls. 

“ I believe I know just how to finish that 
first act,” she said, fishing out a bunch of yel- 
low papers with closely written lines, and sit- 
ting down to her task. 

She scribbled away for a while quietly, and 
then her head began to toss, and she flung 
the sheets aside with a flourish. Page after 
page was tossed on the growing pile, and just 
as it grew too dark to see, the last act of the 
play wound itself up in a way that Beth 
Anne felt was nothing short of genius. 

“ I guess that will make them stare,” she 
said, flapping down the last page. She could 
hardly see the sheets, but the picture was clear 
in her mind, and she slipped down in her 
chair, with her chin in her hands, and gave 
herself up to it. 

She lived it through vividly, and when the 
curtain went down amid thunders of applause, 
she saw herself rise in response to the call for 


260 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


the author. A sea of admiring faces swam 
before her as she stood before the curtain bow- 
ing her response, while Fred Hammond hur- 
ried up the aisle with a huge bunch of roses 
for the successful playwright. She was fairly 
intoxicated with it. 

“ If Saturday were only now ! ” she thought 
rapturously. “ I don’t know how I can 
wait ! ” 

She carried her head high for the next two 
days and when the longed-for afternoon came, 
she climbed the stairs to the harness-room 
where the newly organized Dramatic Club 
met, in a state of great elation. 

They were all there before her, Maijorie 
and Fred and Bess Hammond, Francie Drake 
and Tom Fulton sitting about on boxes and 
chests, and evidently all in a very good 
humor. 

“ Hullo, what have you got for us this 
time ? ” called Fred, as she came in, and his 
tone was so jolly that Beth Anne felt sure of 
the success of her play at once. 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 261 


“ The Girl of Drury Lane,” she announced 
proudly. “ And it’s new, — every word of 
it.” 

“ Why didn’t you make it a boy, so we fel- 
lows could have a show ? ” asked Francie, who 
was always picking out the best parts for him- 
self. “ Who was she, anyway ? ” 

Beth Anne, whose feelings were too easily 
wounded, made the mistake of curling her 
nose at him. & 

“ 1 The Girl of Drury Lane, A Tragedy in 
Three Acts/ ” she read out, and then paused 
to add in her most superior fashion, “ She 
was an actress, of course, — they all are in 
Drury Lane, — and first she lived in a little 
house there, and afterward she was a very 
great actress. If you’ll wait till I read it, 
you’ll know all about it.” 

No one likes to be snubbed, and authors 
with new plays should be careful of the feel- 
ings of their audiences. The two girls and 
three boys seated on the chests and boxes 
resented Beth Anne’s superior airs. 


262 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ How many are in it?” asked Fred, in a 
less cordial tone. 

“ Where is Drury Lane ? I never heard of 
it,” said Tom Fulton. 

Beth Anne opened her eyes in real sur- 
prise. “ Why, every one knows it’s in Lon- 
don ” she began, when Francie broke in 

impatiently : 

“ Let her read it, won’t you? We’ll never 
get through at this rate.” 

“ Yes, do. We want to begin practice as 
soon as we can,” said Bess brightly. “ Go on, 
Beth Anne dear.” 

“ I know it’s going to be perfectly darling,” 
said Marjorie, with a contemptuous glance at 
Tom, who subsided into silence at once. 

Beth Anne, much encouraged, began to 
read. 

The description of the setting for the first 
act, which opened in the small house, with 
the future actress sewing buttons on the coat 
of one of her mother’s lodgers, seemed to 
please the Club, for there were murmurs of 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 263 

approval as the stage directions were read. 
But at the very first words of the heroine 
there was a groan from the boys. 

“ 1 Methinks it grows late, and I must repair 
to the kitchen for Master Franconio’s sup- 
per/ ” she read, in a high, strained voice, such 
as she felt fitted the part of the exalted char- 
acter of the girl. 

“ You’d better repair your voice/’ suggested 
the unfeeling Tom. “ None of us wants to 
talk like that.” 

Beth Anne, ignoring him, read on. 

“ * Enter at the right, Franconio, in doublet 
and hose. “ How goes the button sewing, 
little maid ? I will need that coat at half- 
past seven, and it is twenty after now.” ’ ” 

“ ‘ Button sewing 9 ! ” scoffed Tom. “ No 
one would say that.” 

“ What’s a doublet?” asked Francie, anx- 
iously. “ ’Cause, if I’m to have that part ” 

Beth Anne, who was beginning to frown, 
broke in on them. “ I can’t read, if you keep 
on interrupting,” she said, firmly. 


264 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“Cut it out, you fellows,” commanded 
Fred. “ Wait till you hear it all.” 

Beth Anne began again, and read the first 
act entirely through without any further 
criticism, but when she got to the second act, 
where the Girl, in the emergency of the lead- 
ing lady’s illness, took the principal part with 
great success, they broke out again, and even 
Bess could not restrain them while Marjorie, 
who always went with the winning side, 
giggled openly. 

“ ‘ From henceforth you shall be our 
star,’ ” mimicked Tom, derisively. “ Oh, 
slush ! ” 

“ I won’t take any part that talks that way 
to a girl,” declared Francie, scornfully. “ I 
won’t say, ‘ Wonderful girl, you alone can 
show us how to act.’ And I don’t like the 
costumes, either ; they’re awfully grubby.” 

“ I don’t see why they liked the girl, 
anyway,” said Fred. “ I think she’s a pill. 
She doesn’t do a thing but brag about her- 
self.” 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 265 

“ I guess I know who’s going to take that 
part,” teased Tom, and he looked suggestively 
at the authoress. 

Beth Anne started up, stung to the quick. 

“ I intended it for Marjorie, but no one 
shall ever have it,” she said, vehemently. 
“You can get your own plays after this, for 
you will never see another one of mine,” and 
she tore the sheets across, flinging them into 
the nearest bin with an energy that startled 
them into sudden silence. 

At the door she paused. “ You can laugh 
now, but I’ll write one yet, better than any 
of you could ever write. And I won’t let 
any of you act it, not if you begged me on 
your knees forever,” and she rushed off, 
banging the door behind her. 

She sped down the steps in a passion of 
despair, and though she heard Bess’s quick 
feet following, she did not slacken her pace, 
but hurried the faster, to avoid the spoken 
sympathy which just now she hated with all 
her bruised pride. 


266 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


She slid into a dark corner of the feed 
room, throwing herself on a pile of sacks to 
cry it out, and was glad when she heard Bess 
pass her hiding place and hurry on out to the 
house. 

She buried her head in the clean smelling 
bags and was beginning to feel terribly sorry 
for herself in her lonely misery when a wet 
little nose on the back of her neck made her 
jump. She sat up, sniffing fiercely, and Toby 
sat up, too, waving one small paw implor- 
ingly. 

She caught him in her arms, hugging him 
close and rocking back and forth with him. 

“ They're awfully mean, Toby-poby," she 
whispered. “ They couldn't do a bit better, 
and they laugh at me every time. I guess 
they'd have laughed at William Shakespeare 
himself." 

Toby wagged his stumpy tail and licked 
her hands, seeming to know that he could 
comfort her. He stood at attention, while 
she mopped her eyes, and straightened her 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 267 

hair, cocking his head to one side as he tried 
to understand her changing moods. 

Suddenly she got up with a bounce that 
sent him sprawling. 

“ I’ll do it ! ” she declared, vigorously. “ I 
will ! And I’ll do it now ! ” 

She marched off to the house, head up and 
bows bristling, Toby trotting contentedly at 
her heels. Seeing Bess at the side door she 
slipped in at the kitchen, saying to Car’line : 

“ Tell them I won’t come out again. I’m 
too busy.” 

Pausing for a moment in the passage, she 
heard Bess, who had been trying to find Beth 
Anne in the front of the house, hurry to the 
back door. And she heard, also, Car’line’s 
answer to her panted inquiry. 

“ Deed, no, chile. She gone up-stairs. She 
got too much on han’ to be triflin’ with you 
play-actors.” 

She did not wait for any more. She knew 
she was safe, and she hastened on up to the 
battered old desk in the play-room. 


268 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Selecting the largest tablet and a pencil with 
a good point, she sat herself down to write her 
masterpiece. With her elbows planted on the 
desk and her chin in her hands, she tried to 
think of some new and startling plot that 
would compel the wonder and admiration of 
all readers. She thought hard, but it was of 
no use, and for the next ten minutes she sat 
making idle dots and dashes on her pad. 

At last she sprang up. 

“ I know how they do ! " she cried, in re- 
lief. “ They make them out of books, — like 
‘Uncle Tom's Cabin' and ‘Cinderella'! 
That's what I'll do 1 I'll take one of my 
own stories." 

Away she sped to the library, secured the 
story from the bottom drawer of the desk and 
hurried back to the play-room, where she 
locked the door and set about her task, bub- 
bling with the joy of the conqueror. 

“ It's as easy as anything," she exulted, 
as she laid down the first act. “ I wish I'd 
thought of it before." 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 269 

The story of the little brown princess whose 
aspect was most dreadful when she was doing 
her kindest deeds, and of the strong armed 
prince whom she delivered from the wicked 
witch ; of the beautiful evil enchantress in her 
magic castle, was a tale she built unconsciously 
from fragments of her father’s firelight stories, 
and was a very pleasing little tale. Beth 
Anne really thought she had made it up en- 
tirely out of her own fertile brain, and it was 
with great satisfaction that she set to work. 

She pegged away at it all the sunny after- 
noon, and she went down to dinner without 
changing or even washing her hands. No one 
noticed her omissions, however, as Mrs. Burton 
was dining out and her father was deep in 
plans for the last panel of the library series. 

“ I’ll have a whole hour till bedtime,” she 
said as she hurried back to the task. 

She scribbled away, forgetting that she had 
promised Marjorie to do a map of Africa for 
her; and as the clock struck the half hour 
after her bedtime, she finished the last sheet. 


270 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ I guess that will do,” she said, happily. 
“ But I won’t let any one see it till I read it 
to Father.” 

She went to bed so excited that she could 
not sleep for a long time, and when at last she 
did, it was to dream that the entire Dramatic 
Club was throwing wreaths and roses at her 
where she stood alone on the harness-room 
stage, while her mother, in the audience, shed 
tears at her daughter’s thrilling success. 

The next morning she went down to break- 
fast still full of the delightful possibilities of 
her new play of “ The Little Brown Princess,” 
but before she fairly reached the dining-room, 
Bess Hammond burst in, her cheeks flushed 
and her breath coming fast. 

“Aunt Alma has sent for us all, — for a 
whole month ! ” she cried, tossing back the 
dark lock that fell in her eyes with a spirited 
gesture. “ Fred and I are to go to school at 
the High School and perhaps , — perhaps we 
may stay till vacation ! ” 

Beth Anne knew how much this long visit 


DRAMATIC CLUB CRITICIZES 271 

in their aunt’s comfortable old house in Cam- 
bridge meant to the Hammonds, who, while 
they were the very nicest people in Center- 
ville, were rather poor and quite shabby at 
times, since Mr. Hammond’s death some years 
before had left them but a very scant income. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad for you ! ” she exclaimed 
in quick sympathy with the joy in Bess’s 
face. “ But we’ll miss you frightfully.” 
Then her face fell. “ There won’t be any 

Club, if you and Fred drop out ” 

Bess interrupted her vigorously : “ Don’t 
you believe it. They’ll go on all right, and 
anyway, we’re only going to stay a month.” 

Beth Anne shook her head. “ I won’t let 
them as much as sniff my play till you come 
back,” she declared vehemently. 

“ Well, maybe it would be nicer to wait 
for us,” returned Bess, much pleased. “ Fred 
and I would love to act it, and we’d do our 
very best, too. Now, hurry up and come over 
and talk about things.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


INTERMISSION 

Spring came beautifully to the valley that 
year, but Beth Anne rioted through the Easter 
holidays alone ; for Jinny was quarantined at 
school with chicken-pox, and both the Ham- 
monds and the Doanes were visiting far-away 
relatives ; even Cousin Lucia, who usually 
spent at least half of her time with them, was 
in the west and would not return till August. 

The color crept back into the woods and 
fields and the birds came trooping northward, 
filling the sweet air with their early songs. 

Beth Anne made the most of the spring. 
She drove with her mother, who seemed un- 
naturally tired and languid in the brightening 
days ; she raced with Toby over the steep 
ledges of the quarry ; she toiled with Francie 
Drake and Tom Fulton after Sam Roberts as 

272 


INTERMISSION 273 

he went back and forth over the big field, fol- 
lowing his plow ; and she reveled day by day 
in the rising tide of loveliness. 

The days fled on winged feet. The holidays 
were over, school and study, practice and play 
came and went again in their regular every- 
day routine. The days lengthened into weeks, 
— weeks in which Beth Anne and Marjorie 
grew inseparable, and in which Mrs. Burton 
in her languor left them more and more to 
their own devices, — weeks in which the work 
on the big panels for the Rodney Library went 
swiftly on, claiming Mr. Burton’s time and in- 
terest to their utmost. 

And then, before one could believe it, it 
was vacation again. 

“ I wish I had some one else to play with 
than just Marjorie,” Beth Anne wrote in her 
diary late in June. “Bess went away again 
as soon as they got back from Cambridge, and 
David can’t come till late in August. Jinny 
has to stay and get coached, and she will be 
here in August, too. Mother is sort of sick 


274 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

and limp most of the time now, and Cousin 
Lucia is far out west. I guess August will 
never come.” 

In the idle days, with only the rather silly 
Marjorie for a companion, Beth Anne missed 
her mother’s bright comradeship more and 
more. In spite of Marjorie’s flattery, or per- 
haps because of it, she lost the zest of vacation 
time, and almost wished for school again. 

She ceased to find interest in story-writing 
and the play, which had never been resurrected 
from its drawer in the old play-room lay for- 
gotten, the yellowing sheets growing dustier 
with the passing weeks, a buried mile-stone 
on the thorny road to fame. 

“ Father paints all day long,” she wrote in 
late July, “and we never have any nice 
picnics or Indian times the way we used to. 
Mother is always tired now. Marje is a 
regular copy-cat. I guess August will never 
come.” 

But in spite of her gloomy forebodings, the 
slow days did pass, and the big panels were 


INTERMISSION 


2 75 

finished at last. David was due about the 
middle of the month, Cousin Lucia was to 
return on the first, and Jinny was expected at 
any moment, for the Private View, a very 
large and important party to show the beauti- 
ful library panels before they left for the 
western town where they were to be placed, 
was to be held on the second of August. 

Beth Anne was very much excited about 
the Private View. Invitations had been sent 
to every one of their friends in the village and 
countryside, as well as to the artist circle of 
her father's associates. There was to be music 
by Brock's orchestra, which was to be con- 
cealed in the summer-house : and all sorts of 
good things were to be served on the wide, 
shady lawn by the circle of big pine trees. 

Cousin Lucia was already installed as Mrs. 
Burton's efficient right hand when Jinny 
arrived, and Beth Anne after the first greet- 
ings were over carried her off to the room they 
were to share together. 

Jinny was much changed outwardly, but 


276 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

her big eyes were as loving as ever when she 
looked into Beth Anne’s, and though she had 
gained so much in experience and manner, 
she had lost no tiny scrap of her old adoration 
for that highly delighted young person. 

“ You’re just the same Jinny as ever,” Beth 
Anne declared, pulling Jinny about to stare 
at her from every angle possible. “ When the 
teachers wrote about you as ‘ Virginia,’ I felt 
afraid you’d be different, but you aren’t. Of 
course, you’re better looking, and you talk as 
beautifully as any one could. I don’t see how 
you managed it, in six months.” 

“ And you,” said Jinny softly, her voice 
vibrant with the joy of her home-coming, 
“ you are lovelier than ever. Do you know,” 
she confessed with a little laugh, “ I was afraid 
to see you when I came in, for fear you mightn’t 
be as nice as I had remembered you.” 

Beth Anne elevated her puggy nose. Such 
real admiration was very satisfying after 
Marjorie’s monotonous praise. 

“ I don’t ever change,” she boasted, for- 


INTERMISSION 


2 77 

getting those moments of jealous anger when 
Jinny had seemed almost an enemy. “ If I 
love a person once, it’s for always. What 
have you in that book ? ” 

Jinny reluctantly surrendered the sketch 
book from her trunk lid, and Beth Anne held 
it at arm’s length, squinting at it as she had 
seen her father do. 

“ I can tell, Miss Jinny-pinny, that you’re 
going to be an artist. See if Father doesn’t 
think so, too, when he sees these.” She waved 
the sketches with a magnificent gesture. 
“ You may not have genius, but you certainly 
show talent,” she ended, impressively. “ And 
I shouldn’t be surprised if Father gives you 
some lessons.” 

“ How splendid ! ” breathed Jinny. 

“ Come on out and take a walk,” Beth Anne 
suggested. “ Every one’s busy, and we’re in 
the way.” 

“ Wait a minute,” said Jinny, opening a 
leather case and showing a carefully wrapped 
flat tissue paper. “ You talk about my not 


278 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

caring for you as I did, — do you know what 
that is ? ” 

Beth Anne shook her head, and Jinny un- 
folded the paper to show a faded bunch of 
violets tied with a narrow violet ribbon, and 
pinned to the paper with a violet headed pin. 
“ I always keep it in my handkerchief case,” 
she said softly. 

Beth Anne sighed in a luxury of satisfaction. 
“ You don’t know what they meant to me, 
too,” she repeated with a hug. “ And I love 
you frightfully for keeping them.” 

Jinny stowed away the little parcel. 
“ When I don’t love you any more I’ll throw 
those flowers away, Beth Anne.” 

Beth Anne bubbled with appreciation. “ If 
I ever feel afraid you’ve forgotten me,” she 
said, eagerly, “ I’ll look for them in your 
case, and if I don’t find them, I’ll know ” 

“ But they’ll always be there,” declared 
Jinny, her eyes luminous with love. “ I’ll 
never, never change, Beth Anne.” 

“ Hark, there’s Mother calling ! ” cried 


INTERMISSION 


279 

Beth Anne, suddenly diverted. “ I hope she 
doesn’t want us to go talk to Mrs. Drake.” 

Mrs. Drake was in the drawing-room with 
Mrs. Burton, but they were not wanted to 
help entertain her, being sent off in haste to 
the library where, as Mrs. Burton told them, 
was an old friend of Beth Anne’s who was 
most impatient to see her. 

Beth Anne and Jinny, who had begun in a 
chorus of “ Dav — ” stopped on the first sylla- 
ble, because, as Beth Anne promptly said : 

“ David wouldn’t stop in the library. He’d 
come right on out here.” 

But Mrs. Burton only smiled again, and 
suggested that they go and find out for them- 
selves who it was. 

“ I suppose,” said Beth Anne, rather un- 
graciously, as they started across the lawn, 
“ that it is some snuffy old gentleman who 
used to know me when I was a baby. They’re 
always turning up at Mother’s receptions, and 
wanting to kiss me, and smooth my hair.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE LITTLE GREEN SERPENT AGAIN 

The library was apparently deserted when 
the two girls came in. 

“ I guess it’s just a trick Mother is playing 
on us,” said Beth Anne. “ I thought she 
looked queer.” 

“ Maybe they're in the parlor,” suggested 
Jinny. 

“ All right,” agreed Beth Anne, and they 
were passing out of the room when an un- 
earthly roar sounded behind them. 

Beth Anne put her fingers in her ears, and 
squealed, while Jinny hopped about two feet 
and then made for the door. 

“ Thought Pd scare you,” jeered David's 
voice, as he emerged, all red and tousled from 
the curtained alcove by the desk. “ Gee I 
You girls are brave.” 


280 


THE GREEN SERPENT 281 

Beth Anne had him around the neck in 
spite of himself. 

“ You good old Debe ! ” she cried. “ How 
did you get here so soon ? And how did you 
get in without our seeing? ” 

“ Aunt Carol knew,” he panted, struggling 
out of her embrace. “ Gee, but you’re hard 
on a fellow’s collar. Cut it out, will you ? ” 

Beth Anne promptly desisted, not at all of- 
fended. “ Don’t you see Jinny ? ” she asked, 
noting that he was glancing in a rather con- 
strained and uncertain fashion at Jinny, who 
had retreated to the hall in a relapse of her 
old fear of being in the way. 

“ Isn’t she prettier and lovelier than ever ? ” 
demanded Beth Anne, proud of the change 
and eager for his approval. 

He turned away, boy fashion, from the em- 
barrassing subject of beauty. 

“ She’s good enough,” he acquiesced. 
“ And she’s bigger than you, too.” 

A swift pang of jealousy shot straight to 
Beth Anne’s heart. “ But you like me best, 


282 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


don’t you, Debe?” she whispered, pulling at 
his cuff. 

“ Let go ! ” he commanded sharply. “ Of 
course I do, but you needn’t make a show be- 
fore everybody.” 

Beth Anne to hide her emotion dropped his 
hand and stalked off to the hall, leaving 
David staring after her, but Jinny’s eager 
question made her forget her private troubles. 
“ Does he know about to-morrow ? ” she asked. 

At this Beth Anne bubbled over with glee, 
and forgetting her flare of jealous fear, pulled 
Jinny back to where David still stood. 

“ Do you know what’s going on to-morrow ? ” 
she demanded gleefully. “ Did you see the 
flummerations in the studio and ” 

“ Didn’t see anything,” he broke in, grin- 
ning sheepishly. “I just hopped out of 
the stage and got into the house like light- 
ning, so’s no one would see me. What’s up? 
You didn’t write ” 

“ No, I wanted to tell you all about it after 
it was over,” she responded gaily. “ I didn’t 


THE GREEN SERPENT 283 

dream you’d drop down out of Europe like 
this. You’re two weeks ahead of time, David 
Pemberton 1 ” 

“ We thought you were in Canterbury,” 
said Jinny. “ Beth Anne and I were going 
to make up a big steamer letter for you.” 

David wagged his head loftily. “ Well, I’m 
here, and that’s a lot better than letters, any- 
way,” he said. “Now get busy and tell me 
all about the shindy to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, Debe, wait, and we’ll tell you every 
last teeny-weeny atom,” promised Beth Anne, 
breathlessly. “ Come on, let’s go out and see 
things while we talk ; it helps one keep from 
flying to pieces when the exciting parts come.” 

“ Fire away then,” commanded David, as 
they went out into the sunshine, and Beth 
Anne, with her heart bubbling with joy and 
good-will, danced along with Jinny on one 
side and David on the other. 

The Private View, with its gay groups of 
prettily dressed people on the lawn and in the 
studio, with its flowers and music, and above 


284 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

all, its glorification of the great, beautiful 
panels in the palm-decked studio, was all that 
Beth Anne had dreamed. 

Miss Carrie and Angeline had come early 
and stayed late, giving Jinny ample oppor- 
tunity to get well acquainted with them. 
Bess Hammond turned up unexpectedly at 
the last moment in a big green car with a 
very correct chauffeur in attendance, her aunt 
having sent her all the way from the city 
with leave to stay till six o’clock. 

She had just left, and Beth Anne, after the 
flurry of her departure was over, ran over to 
the studio for one long look at the big panels. 

She was very proud of her father’s work 
and thought these paintings far finer than 
those of Sargent or Abbey which she had 
seen in the Boston Library. 

The studio was empty, as she thought, and 
so she was surprised to hear voices behind 
her. Hidden by a big palm, she lingered to 
hear once again the praise she so loved. 

The voices were very distinct now, and the 


THE GREEN SERPENT 285 

words, so different from what she had ex- 
pected, burnt themselves upon her mind. 

Mrs. Oliver was speaking. “ She really is 
quite wonderful, — so beautiful and so clever 
already. Think of what she will be ten years 
from now.” 

“ Beth Anne is a dear little thing.” Mrs. 
Drake’s soft voice had a note of protest that 
surprised Beth Anne, whose head was begin- 
ning to waggle at the praise she felt was in- 
tended for her. 

“ Beth Anne is well enough,” agreed the 
other, indifferently. “ But Virginia is a 
beauty. Beth Anne can’t hold a candle to 
her ” 

Poor, undeceived Beth Anne could bear no 
more. 

Slipping out of the nearest door, she got to 
the shrubberies. Hot tears were in her eyes, 
and she bit her lips to keep them from falling. 
All the happy dream pictures she had been 
building in the past few months, wherein she 
moved as the admired center of a growing 


286 BETH ANNE HERSELF 


circle of worshipers, crashed to pieces in her 
mind, and she saw Jinny, in the place she had 
chosen for herself, making success of her 
failure and reigning supreme on the throne 
she had thought her very own. 

“ I — I — almost hate her,” she whispered in- 
tensely, and then felt very guilty and miser- 
able that she should have such feelings. 

“ Hullo,” said David, coming around the 
corner. “ I’ve been hunting for you every- 
where. Aunt Carol wants you to help with 
the ices.” 

Beth Anne merely curled her puggy nose at 
him and rushed off in the opposite direction. 

“ Well, of all freaky things ” he whistled 

under his breath. “ What’s gotten into her 
lately, anyway?” 

He thought she was queerer still when, 
coming slowly up to the tent where the ices 
were served, he found Beth Anne dancing out 
in high spirits. She carried a tray of colored 
ices, and looked much as usual. He did not 
know the reason for her bewildering changes, 



SHE CARRIED A TRAY OF COLORED ICES 






































































THE GREEN SERPENT 287 

and feeling as much rebuffed by her gaiety 
now as he had been by her dumps of ten 
minutes ago, he went off to Jinny and spent 
the rest of the afternoon very agreeably. 

Beth Anne, flying about with her garlanded 
tray of ices, made herself so indispensable to 
her mother and Cousin Lucia that they de- 
clared they could not have possibly done with- 
out her, and she had the joy of hearing Mrs. 
Oliver remark to Mrs. Drake as they were 
leaving : 

“ Beth Anne seems to be more attractive 
than I really thought. She has pretty man- 
ners, too. I never noticed her particularly 
until to-day. She's growing ” 

Beth Anne heard no more, but it almost 
repaid her for the tragic five minutes she had 
spent in the studio, and more than rewarded 
her for her heroic self-restraint in drying her 
tears and going back to help her mother. If 
more people would only talk like that, she 
felt that it would not hurt so much when they 
praised Jinny. 


288 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ I’m not really-for-truly sorry that they 
like Jinny better,” she told herself, trying to 
justify her jealous anger. “ It’s only that I 
want them to like me a tiny little bit, too. 
Captain Jont says I’m a clipper, and he’s 
going to let me teach Alphonsine one of my 
verses, if I want to.” 

In her diary that night she wrote at length, 
ending up with a brief paragraph: 

“ The people all looked lovely in lots of 
lace dresses and the sweetest bracelets and 
parasols. Mr. Jordon said the little figure I 
posed for in the side panel had a good expres- 
tion. Jinny looked very pretty in a new 
pink dress with sash and buckles on her 
white slippers. I am very glad they all 
think she is so clever.” 

The last line was an effort, and she slipped 
into bed feeling that, after all, she was a rather 
saintly character, and her guardian angel must 
be quite proud of her. 

“ I am pretty good,” she thought, glowing 
with the realization of her own virtues. “ I 


THE GREEN SERPENT 289 

made Mrs. Oliver like me, without trying, and 
I never showed how bad I felt. I was just 
as nice as ever to Jinny — and lots of people 
couldn’t have done that 1 ” 

She sighed happily at the extent of her 
capacities. “ 1 do hope we can go on the 
picnic with Father to-morrow, and Jinny can 
make her sketch, so that he can tell her 
whether he’ll give her lessons when he comes 

back ” and with this final proof of her 

saintliness she fell asleep, with a smile of 
self-satisfaction on her pink lips. 


CHAPTER XX 


AN OPEN BREACH 

The picnic was a great success for all con- 
cerned, save perhaps Beth Anne, who found 
her jealous spot growing more and more 
irritated by Jinny’s continued successes, and 
even the lavish adoration which Jinny gave 
so freely could not make up to Beth Anne for 
her increasing popularity. 

Every one had a good word for Jinny, and 
Beth Anne, blinded by the selfishness which 
had been steadily growing in the idle days 
with the flattering Marjorie, grudged Jinny 
even the little attentions which, as a newly 
arrived and long expected guest, were her 
right 

It had annoyed her that although Mr. 
Burton had been called to town by sudden 
business, Jinny, nevertheless, had made an 

290 


AN OPEN BREACH 291 

oil sketch which had been praised by all the 
picnic party. David’s desertion of her for the 
more even tempered Jinny added fuel to the 
smoldering fire of her jealousy, and it was 
with real pleasure that she welcomed Marjorie 
to the music-room the following morning. 

Beth Anne gave her an account of the 
picnic, with as little of Jinny in it as possible. 

“ It certainly was fine,” commented Mar- 
jorie, indifferently, and then in a changed 
tone, “ Where’s Jinny ? ” 

“ In the studio, showing her sketch to 
Father,” said Beth Anne, shortly. 

“ Doesn’t she paint beauti ” began Mar- 

jorie, when Jinny herself fluttered into the 
room, in a perfect whirlwind of joy. 

All her usual reserve was gone and she 
chanted rapturously : 

“ I’m going to paint with him this morn- 
ing — this morning — this morning ! ” 

And as she sang, she struck into a coon 
dance with a vigor and abandon that made 
the others sit up. Beth Anne adored dancing. 


292 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Where did you learn to do that ? ” she 
questioned, eagerly, forgetting her grievance 
in the excitement of the moment. 

Jinny, brought to herself by the question, 
stopped, and there was a tinge of embarrass- 
ment in her voice as she answered : 

“ Mrs. Dill’s Lou taught me. She worked 
at the theater. But I don’t dance like that 
any more.” 

“ I think it is awfully sweet,” said Marjorie 
fervently. “ I wish you’d teach me.” 

Beth Anne’s interest died at the ardent 
admiration in Marjorie’s tone. 

“ I remember you were dancing like that 
the day we were lost,” she said coldly. 

Jinny looked at her with a perplexed little 
frown, but her happiness was too great to be 
dampened by what she took for a passing 
whim. 

“ Yes,” she said radiantly. “ I remember.” 

Marjorie jumped up. “ Do show me the 
dance,” she urged. 

Jinny shook her head. “ Not now. I have 


AN OPEN BREACH 293 

to get my things ready,” and she was off, leav- 
ing them alone again. 

Marjorie looked longingly after her. “ I 
wish I could go with her,” she said, warmly. 
“ I think she is just wonderful.” 

“ That is what you said about me a little 
while ago,” Beth Anne reminded her. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Marjorie, coolly. “ But 
she’s different. She can do lots of things you 
can’t. And she’s so pretty. Tom Fulton 
says she is the prettiest girl he ever saw.” 

Beth Anne rose. “ It’s a wonder you can 
stay when she isn’t here,” she said stiffly. 

“ I’m not going to,” retorted Marjorie com- 
posedly, walking off without another word. 

Beth Anne looked after her with a rueful 
face. The memory of Bess Hammond’s words 
did not tend to make her happier, and she 
felt pity for herself, while she raged at Mar- 
jorie’s desertion. 

David had left on the early train, and there 
was no one available to help smooth matters 
for her : so she rambled about till late in the 


294 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

morning when she came on her father and 
mother in the summer-house. Her father 
was speaking earnestly. 

“ You may as well make up your mind to 
go with me, Carol/’ he was saying firmly. “ I 
am determined on it.” 

“ If I must, I must, I suppose,” replied his 
wife, with a tired smile. “ But I am really 
very well off at home. I only need rest.” 

“ That's what you’ve been saying for the 
last few months,” he said. “ Now we shall 
try what a change will do for you. You 
are pretty well knocked out by the recent 
festivities.” 

“Where’s she going?” asked Beth Anne 
eagerly. “Oh, may I go too?” 

He shook his head, laughing. “ You are one 
of the responsibilities she is to leave behind 
with the housekeeping.” 

Beth Anne, taking this to mean that she 
was to be raised to the dignity of housekeeper, 
was reconciled at once to the plan. 

“ It will be just the thing ! ” she cried, gaily. 


AN OPEN BREACH 295 

“ I’ll take care of everything, and she needn’t 
worry a bit ! ” 

Mrs. Barton smiled at her enthusiasm. 
“ Mary Stone is coming, dear,” she said, gently. 
“ Your father has just ’phoned, and she will 
be here in the morning, on the ten-twenty. I 
hope you and Jinny will have a good time 
with her. I know how fond you are of Mary.” 

Beth Anne’s spirits were in a pleasant flutter 
at the unexpectedness of it all. “ We’ll have 
a lovely time,” she said, happily. “ We always 
do when things are mixed up and change-y.” 

“ Just try to cut the thrills out for a change,” 
recommended her father, laughing. “ Let 
Mary have a peaceful time while she is here, 
won’t you? ” 

" Indeed we will I ” promised Beth Anne, 
promptly, visions of herself as a combination 
of saint and nun recurring pleasantly. 

Beth Anne was all eager plans, forgetting 
her grievance against Jinny for the moment 
and looking ahead to a calm and dreamy life 
of peace and piety for the next two weeks. 


296 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Finding Jinny washing her brushes in the 
laundry she told the news with great gusto. 

The rest of the day passed in excited pack- 
ing of trunks and promises and plans for the 
days of Mrs. Burton’s absence. 

The next morning the girls saw the carriage 
drive off with Mr. and Mrs. Burton in it with 
mingled feelings of regret and resignation. It 
was sad to see them go, but it was rather a 
lark to be mistresses of the house until Mary 
Stone should arrive. 

They had a surprise when the carriage came 
back from the station without Mary or any 
message in regard to her. 

It was not until luncheon time that the 
message came. Mary had fainted at the sta- 
tion and had been taken home and put to bed, 
— for a week, the doctor said. Mr. Stone 
would write later. u 

“ We will just have s keep house by our- 
selves,” said Beth Anne easily. “ Let’s tell 
Car’line.” 

Car’line was very severe on Miss Mary for 


AN OPEN BREACH 297 

getting sick when there were “ two critters ” 
to be looked after. 

“ You’ll jist have to min , me till you’ ma 
gits back/’ she said firmly. “ If you ’haves 
you’se’f good an’ proper, you kin have tea in 
the gyarden every fine day. But if you’s per- 
nickety, I’ll — I’ll Nem’mine what I 

won’t do 1 ” 

After lunch Marjorie came in to see Jinny, 
making no pretense of even asking for Beth 
Anne. 

Car’line, sniffing portentously, ushered her 
into the library, where Beth Anne was curled 
up on the window-seat in one of her most vir- 
tuous moods. 

Marjorie broke in on her impatiently. 

“ What lots of fun you can have now,” she 
said, enviously. “ I wish I could keep house 
all alone. You can do everything you want 
to now. I should fV you’d hate to waste 
time moping around indoors.” 

“ I’m waiting for Jinny to get her books,” 
replied Beth Anne, not at all ruffled. “ We’re 


298 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

going to begin to study an hour every day 
after lunch.” 

Marjorie, instead of being impressed, rolled 
up her eyes. 

“ How perfectly idiotic ! ” she said, contemp- 
tuously. “ I call it silly to throw away your 
chance for fun like that.” 

“ We-e- 11 ,” said Beth Anne, slowly, “ we’re 
going to have tea in the garden afterward.” 

Marjorie turned up her nose. “ Stupid 
enough ! I’d choose something livelier than 

that. I’d have a party every night ” she 

broke off as Jinny came in with the books, 
and turning eagerly to her she began a hurried 
conversation in a low tone. 

Beth Anne’s thoughts were very busy, so busy 
she did not notice Marjorie’s entire desertion of 
her. A plan for “ something livelier ” that was 
also in line with her promised good behavior 
was forming in her mind. It was to be a sur- 
prise for Jinny, and, as she determined on it, 
it thrilled her so she simply could not wait. 

“ Oh, Marje I ” she cried, and, resorting to 


AN OPEN BREACH 299 

the code they had invented in the spring for 
their most secret secrets, — the code which 
they had sworn never to let any one else even 
guess the meaning of, — she gabbled off the 
question rapidly. 

Marjorie squirmed uneasily but did not an- 
swer. 

Jinny, staring in astonishment, spoke 
quickly. “ Why, where did you learn that ? ” 
she cried. “ That’s our code, — Marjorie’s and 
mine ! We made it up last night 1 ” 

Beth Anne cast one withering glance on the 
shrinking traitor. 

“ I made it up myself, and somebody stole 
it,” she said, icily. “ But I won’t ever use it 
again. I’m going out and I won’t be home 
for tea. You two can go where you please, 
and stay as long as you like, for I won’t have 
anything more to do with you. I hate two- 
faced people ! ” 

Jinny started to her feet, but Marjorie laid 
a detaining hand on her arm, and whispered 
something that made her pause. 


3 oo BETH ANNE HERSELF 

So Beth Anne stalked through the house 
alone, and out into the garden, hardening her 
heart against Jinny and all the world. 

Beth Anne slammed the gate very hard. 
“ I wish Mother or David were here, — or even 
Miss Carrie, or Captain Jont. I don't see why 
every one went off to-day, — like the plague," 
she thought resentfully. “ I hate Jinny and 
Marje is just horrid! Nobody cares a bit 
about me any more." 

She stubbed her toe on a stone in the path 
and it added to her sense of injury. 

“ I'll go for a long walk and maybe I'll find 
some people who aren't perfectly crazy about 
themselves," she said fiercely. 

Toby, with his nose through the stable grat- 
ing barked entreaty, but she shut her heart 
against him and stalked off severely alone. 

And that was how she discovered the Ser- 
aphinos. v 


CHAPTER XXI 


PIETRO 

From the moment she saw Pietro, sitting 
flat in the dust of the back road with a sister 
just a size larger in attendance, her heart went 
out to him. 

He was so soft and dimpled, — his big eyes 
had such merry lights in them and his little 
mouth was so red and flower-like, that she 
had to stop on the other side of the road to 
gloat over his adorable curves and dimples. 

The sister finished a beautiful round pie, 
and set it carefully in the sun to bake. Pietro 
stretched a dimpled hand to grab it, and like 
a flash, the thin little claw of his nurse came 
down on his fingers with a vigor that made 
him howl. 

Beth Anne was across the road and on her 
knees in the dust beside him in an instant. 

301 


3 o2 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Oh, don’t ! ” she cried, taking him in her 
arms and hushing his wails. 

The sister only stared. 

“ Let me hold him a while, so that he 
won’t break up your pies,” she begged. 

The small sister was nothing loth to shift 
her charge to this strange girl, who did not 
try to carry Pietro off but sat quite near, 
playing with him, while she could make 
mud-pies at her ease. Baby-tending was no 
novelty to her, for there were nine little 
Seraphinos in the dilapidated frame house 
opposite, and she did not understand Beth 
Anne’s delight at being allowed to take 
charge of Pietro for the rest of the afternoon. 

To Beth Anne, sore with the hurt of 
wounded pride and confidence, the baby was 
all that his name implied, and he seemed to 
her a veritable “ little seraph.” 

The afternoon was soon ended, but it was 
only a beginning of a new and absorbing in- 
terest that filled the empty days and satisfied 
her need for companionship. 


PIETRO 


3°3 

Jinny’s timid advances met with little en- 
couragement, for Beth Anne felt that the time 
for apology was over. And in the days that 
followed, noticing that Marjorie was more and 
more with Jinny, she kept to herself as much 
as possible, and Jinny was too hurt to force 
herself upon her. 

Meanwhile the family in the little frame 
house welcomed Beth Anne as a comrade and 
without questions. 

The nine little Seraphinos were alike care- 
free and good-natured ; all, though poorly 
clad, were scrupulously clean, for Mrs. Ser- 
aphino, unlike most Italian laborers, was a 
soap-loving, careful little woman. 

Since the father had been killed in a quarry 
explosion in the early spring she had managed 
to provide bread and onions with spaghetti on 
special occasions for them, but she confided to 
Beth Anne on her second visit to them that 
she could not do more than that. 

“ Giovanni good boy,” she said, proudly, 
pointing to the eleven year old boy, who was 


304 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

turning the wringer for her. “ He go to work 
nex’ week by de store. He maka tree doll’, 
an’ we buy de res’ of de house, mebbe so. My 
man pay some on her, but I ain’ never got de 
mon’. I gotta feed lill’ moufs, me myself,” 
and she patted Pietro’s head fondly. “ Oh, 
well, I guess we mak oud,” she ended, going 
cheerfully on with her washing. 

So Beth Anne played with Pietro to her 
heart’s content, feeling sure her mother could 
not object to her being with such clean and 
cheerful people. 

She spent almost her entire time in the 
days of her mother’s absence with Pietro, and 
while she maintained her dignity before 
Car’line and Jinny, she was always gay and 
frolicsome in the frame house on the back 
road. 

She hunted out from the attic at home an 
old go-cart and a dainty baby dress, and al- 
though Pietro was too plump to be entirely 
comfortable in either she squeezed him into 
them and wheeled him happily up and 


PIETRO 


3°5 

down the dilapidated planking in the back 
yard. 

“ Oh, isn’t he lovely ! ” cried the ever ador- 
ing Beth Anne. “ I wish I might have him 
for my very own. Mrs. Seraphino,” she 
called, as she wheeled him past the back 
door, “ would you let me have him if I took 
very good care of him — some day — for my 
very own ? ” 

The little woman raised her wrinkled, anx- 
ious face from the steaming tub, looking at 
her questioner with sad eyes. 

“ You wan’ Pietro? You Jak to mak heem 
your lill’ boy ? ” she asked, wearily. 

Beth Anne nodded rapturously. “ I can 
take good care of him,” she boasted. “ He 
can have lovely things, and I know Mother 
would like to have him. She took Jinny, you 
know.” 

Mrs. Seraphino did not know, for she had 
never seen Jinny, but she looked sadly at the 
dimpled beauty of her youngest. 

“ He pretty boy, but he mak long time to 


306 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

get beeg,” she said at last. “ I don’ weesh 
heem hard time lak me. Mebbe I give heem 
to you, some day, — mebbe yes.” 

Beth Anne went home that day with her 
head swimming, and even the news that her 
mother was to arrive in an hour did not break 
in on her blissful dream of adopting the 
idolized Pietro. 

It was a pale and languid mother who got 
out of the carriage, and with a word or two of 
greeting, went at once to her room, and Beth 
Anne had no chance to put in her plea for 
Pietro that night. 

Mrs. Burton in answer to the anxious ques- 
tions told them that she was not really ill. 

“ But I have to take what Dr. Risley calls 
the rest cure, and you two chicks will have to 
take care of yourselves a while longer while I 
play possum. I am going on a yachting trip 
soon, and when I come back, I shall be as 
lively as a cricket.” 

Beth Anne had never known her mother tell 
the shadow of an untruth, so her fears were 


PIETRO 


3 °7 

set at rest, and the hours with the Seraphinos 
went happily on. She did not tell her mother 
of the estrangement between herself and Jinny, 
feeling somehow uncertain of what might be 
the result. 

She decided to wait till her mother was well 
enough to come down-stairs before telling her 
about Pietro, but one rainy evening as she 
was sitting before the fire in her mother's 
room, her desire to speak of him grew too 
strong for her. 

“ Oh, Mother, I'm going to be very lonely 
while you are away ! ” she said, longingly. 
“ If you would only let me adopt a baby ! ” 

“ Adopt a baby?” echoed Mrs. Burton. 
“ What put that in your head ? Or is it 
another play ? ” 

Beth Anne, abashed by the laugh, retired 
into secrecy. “ I just want one so,” she sighed. 
“ I'd take good care of it.” 

Her mother pinched her cheek. " What 
would you feed it, puss? Cream-puffs or 
beefsteak ? ” 


3 o8 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Beth Anne was shocked at such ignorance. 

“ Babies don’t eat things like that,” she 
said. “ They haven’t enough teeth. But 
mayn’t I, please, Mother?” she pleaded softly. 

Her mother smiled. 

“ I am afraid you will have no time to raise 
a child. School begins to-morrow, you know, 
and you can’t attend a baby and school at the 
same time.” 

“ Oh, I could easily ” began Beth Anne, 

when there was a knock and Dr. Risley came 
in. She slipped away, feeling that her 
mother’s consent was as good as gained, her 
only objection to the scheme being lack of time 
on Beth Anne’s part. 

She thought it over a good deal that night, 
and came down to breakfast prepared to ex- 
plain to both parents how she should arrange 
her days to fit both Pietro and Miss Martha, 
but when she came hopping into the room, 
there was no one there save George. 

“ Where’s Father?” she asked, blankly. 

“ Gone on the early train wif you’ ma. She 


PIETRO 


3°9 

got a tillygram ’bout ten last night. They’s 
clean down to town by this time,” he an- 
swered, briskly. 

“ Why didn’t they wake me? ” she pouted. 

“ You’ ma, she wanted to say good-bye, but 
you’ pa, he say, 4 No, let her sleep, I’ll be back 
’fore she know I’m gone.’ You’ ma lef’ a let- 
ter an’ a box of candy for you on the liberry 
table. They’s one fer Miss Jinny, too.” 

Beth Anne read the note while her oatmeal 
was cooling. 

“ Dearest Girlie : 

“ The Pauls are starting sooner than we 
expected. I will tell you all about the yacht 
and what we are doing when I write. Father 
will be back on the four-ten. Jinny will go 
to Miss Martha’s till I return. Try to be a 
good housekeeper, and remember that I am 
always thinking of you. 

“ Your own 

“ Mother.” 

Beth Anne laid down the letter with min- 
gled feelings, in which her dignity as house- 
keeper played a large part. She was glad her 
beloved mother was going to have a good 


3 io BETH ANNE HERSELF 

time, and since her father was to return so 
soon, she could not feel lonely, — with Pietro 
so near. Jinny might chum with Marjorie as 
much as she pleased. Beth Anne had no need 
of her, and the jealous anger that was always 
rising now when Jinny was with her, made 
her almost as unwelcome as Marjorie herself. 
She hurried through the meal to avoid Jinny. 

Breakfast finished, she played her part of 
mistress by going out to the kitchen and ask- 
ing in a rather pert way what Car’line had for 
lunch. 

Car’line, who had not gotten used to Beth 
Anne’s new airs, would give her no satisfac- 
tion, and Beth Anne, impatient to show her 
authority, resented her refusal. 

“ I was going to ask Miss Helen from 
school,” she said. “ But now I won’t. I’ll 
tell her you can’t cook anything fit for her,” 
and she flounced out of the kitchen, leaving 
Car’line to mourn the change that had come 
over her. 

“ She certainly gettin’ mighty biggity, — 


PIETRO 


3 1 1 

that chile is. I don’ know what come to her, 
she's that two-edged." 

“ She jes' missin' her ma and Miss Jinny," 
said George, pacifically. 

“ She missin' somebuddy to take her down 
a mite," declared Car'line, testily. “ She ain't 
the lovin' little critter she ust to be. She al- 
ways carryin' on agin Miss Jinny nowadays. 
An' Miss Jinny worships the groun' she tread 
on. I sees it, if nobuddy else does." 

Beth Anne, getting her books together, was 
also far from happy. 

“ It would serve them right if I went away 
and never came back again," she said, hotly. 

“ If it wasn't for Pietro, I'd go away to 
Labrador or Siberia, and then they’d find how 
they'd feel ! " she said, as she slammed the 
door behind her. 

School took the edge off her feelings, and 
after a refreshing hour with the Seraphinos 
she came in at twilight eager for a talk with 
her father, but she found that he, too, was 
absorbed and had but a moment to give her. 


312 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Yes, Snippet/ 7 he said, in answer to her 
questions. “ Your mother is all right. It is a 
fine yacht, and she will have a jolly time. 
Now run along, and tell George to bring my 
dinner out to the studio. I have a lot of work 
to plan out, and must get at it.” 

Jinny was staying over night at the 
Doanes’s and Beth Anne almost regretted her 
absence, and wished that she had not insisted 
on her accepting Marjorie's invitation. 

Her loneliness grew upon her, and she 
stood at the library window looking at the 
pines tossing their branches in the wind. 

“ You poor things. You look as if you 
were trying to get away, too/ 7 she said, sym- 
pathetically. “ You wave your arms like — 
like 77 

She broke off suddenly, for there was only 
one creature who waved his arms so wildly. 
The thought of the chubby sweetness of Pietro 
swept over her, and there popped into her 
mind the memory of her mother's words, giv- 
ing, as she firmly believed, consent to her plan. 


PIETRO 


3 I 3 

“Oh, goody-good ! ” she cried, clapping her 
hands. “ I won’t wait another instant ! I’ll 
go and adopt him before it gets dark, forever, 
so no one else can have him,” she added, as 
though claimants for Pietro were lined up in 
eager rows. 

She was outside before a thought of her 
father struck her. She flew to the studio and 
knocked hard. 

“ Father ! ” she called through the keyhole. 
“ I’m going to adopt Pietro. May I, please ? ” 

Mr. Burton on the other side of the door 
was moving a heavy easel and did not hear 
clearly. He knew she was asking permission 
for something, and so, forgetting his wife’s ab- 
sence and from force of habit, he called back : 

“Did you ask your mother?” 

“ Yes, and she said I might, if I had time. 
And I have, really-for-truly, I have lots of it.” 

“ Well, go ahead, then. I’m willing.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


ADOPTING A BABY 

Beth Anne’s feet were very light as she ran 
down the back road to the little frame house. 

But when she opened the door and burst 
into the kitchen with her great news, she 
found the Seraphinos in very low spirits in- 
deed. Giovanni, who had been only a week 
in his position as errand boy at the store, was 
feeling too ill to go to work, and the fear of 
losing his place when he had barely obtained 
it was distressing them all to a degree very 
alarming to Beth Anne, who could never quite 
get used to their extremes of emotion. 

“ I’ve come to adopt Pietro ! ” she announced 
dramatically, as soon as she could be heard. 
“ I am going to take him home at once.” 

There was a chorus of surprise, and Mrs. 
Seraphino left off bewailing Giovanni to ques- 
tion Beth Anne. 

3M 


ADOPTING A BABY 315 

“ You weesh heem now ? ” she asked in be- 
wilderment. “ You tak heem joost yet, 
mebbe? You not weesh heem more cleaner, 
— to-morrow, p'raps ? " 

“ No, no," said Beth Anne, trembling with 
excitement. “I want him just as he is. I 
can fix him myself at home. You promised, 
you know, and I am ready." 

Poor little Mrs. Seraphino, with possible ill- 
ness for Giovanni looming before her, thought 
of the easy days ahead for Pietro in the big, 
luxurious house with Beth Anne, and knowing 
her own dire poverty could see no way to refuse. 

Sadly she handed him over to his new 
mother, who was chattering away for dear life 
about all that was to be done for Pietro in his 
new home. 

“ I'll bring him down to see you every day," 
she promised, as the old go-cart was taken out 
and Pietro stuffed into it. “ He'll be here 
almost as much as he is now." 

She waved away the tiny bundle of clothes 
that Mrs. Seraphino timidly offered. 


3 i6 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ I shall get him beautiful new ones, right 
away,” she said, grandly. 

They all stood on the steps as Pietro, wav- 
ing and crowing as lustily as ever, was trun- 
dled off, and Beth Anne, turning at the corner 
to wave the last good-bye, couldn’t help feel- 
ing a bit saddened by their tearful faces. 

u You won’t have to stay in a tiny, tiny 
room, and perhaps get sick,” she said to Pietro. 
“ You’ll have a lovely room, where there isn’t 
a single solitary microbe to chew up your red 
blood.” 

Pietro seemed to approve of this peculiarly 
healthful situation, for he gurgled and babbled 
all the way to the very sanitary apartment 
that Beth Anne had promised him, and she 
had to smuggle him into the house and up- 
stairs with great haste, for fear of Car’line’s 
sharp ears. She wanted to dress him up 
before any one should see him, for she would 
not show him till he was at his best. She 
searched the attic for something to put on 
him till she could get the new clothes. 


ADOPTING A BABY 317 

She found a couple of very good baby 
dresses with lace and embroidery all over 
them, and when she had washed and brushed 
and curled Pietro into a state of velvety 
perfection, she set him down again, and ran 
down to the studio door. 

Car’line beckoned her from the kitchen. 

“ You' pa ain’ to be ’sturbed,” she cautioned. 
“ What you gwine to intrude where he toP 
you not to fer ? ” 

“ I want to show him something,” said 
Beth Anne, feeling rather guilty in spite of 
herself. 

“ You better not, chile. Take warnin’, an’ 
let him be. When he gits started on one of 
them moral declarations of hisn, he won’t 
see nothin’. What you want to ax?” 

“ Oh, nothing,” replied Beth Anne, fight- 
ing down the desire to confide in Car’line 
as she went slowly up-stairs, hoping all 
the while that her father might come in. 

But he did not appear that evening, and 
she had to make the best of it. She left 


3 i8 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Pietro sound asleep among his toys and ran 
down for her solitary dinner with the feeling 
that she should never be lonely again. She 
could scarcely wait for the dessert to be put 
on that she might get back to him with the 
cakes she had smuggled bulging the front of 
her blouse and the glass of milk carefully 
hidden by her flowing red tie. 

She fed the awakened Pietro, and then after 
many struggles managed to get him tucked 
up in one of her own lacy night-dresses. 

She slipped in beside him, and, with his soft 
little body warm in her arms, went happily 
to sleep. 

The first thing Beth Anne was conscious of 
the next morning was Pietro tugging at her 
and crowing, “ Blab-blab-blab ! ” 

“ You’re lovelier than ever, and you’re my 
very own ! Jinny and Marjorie shan’t get a 
sniff of you ! ” she cried. 

She intended getting him washed and 
dressed before Car’line called her. “ Time for 
the tub,” she sang under her breath, bouncing 


ADOPTING A BABT 319 

at Pietro, who clutched her hair and gabbled 
out, “ Tub-blub-blub ! ” 

She gave him a rapturous squeeze. “ Oh, 
you darling! Wait till you see the nice 
white tub with the lovely water ! ” 

She filled the tub, and hurried back with 
him. He chuckled at the sight of the water, 
and when he was lifted tried to catch at it 
with his dimpled first ; but when Beth Anne 
plumped him down into the warm tub, he 
shrieked with fear, for never had he seen a 
tub like this, — all white and slippery, with 
nothing to hold on by. Flinging his arms 
about Beth Anne’s neck, he howled aloud, 
refusing to let go. 

“ Oh, Pietro, don’t ! ” she cried, for the 
edge of the tub was hard against her chest, 
and his weight around her neck was heavy 
and choking. “ Sit down like a good boy.” 

But Pietro only wailed the louder. Beth 
Anne, afraid that the whole house would be 
roused, made a final struggle to free herself. 
Her feet slipped on the rug and into the tub 


320 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

she tumbled head first while Pietro went 
down with a splash and scream that echoed 
through the silent house. 

She was right side up in an instant, trying 
to smother his shrieks with one hand while 
she held him above the water-line with the 
other, all the while excitedly squealing com- 
mands to him to be silent. 

The tumult was at its loudest when Car’line 
broke in. 

“ What you-all doin', a-drownin' of you’- 

se’f ” she began, but catching sight of 

Pietro, she stopped, gasping in amazement. 

Pietro, at the sight of her dark face, howled 
louder and more shrilly, redoubling his 
shrieks when she scooped him out of the 
water and sitting him down hard on the rug, 
wrapped a big bath towel about him. J 

Car’line glared reproachfully at the twdP 
“ I'se gwine to tell Mr. Burton, — I shore 

is ” she said, when Mr. Burton himself, 

in pajamas and bath-robe, appeared in the 
doorway. 


ADOPTING A BABT 321 

“ What in creation ! ” he exclaimed. 

Beth Anne flung herself upon him with a 
flood of explanation, Car’line burst into wild 
accusation, while Pietro on the rug howled 
louder and louder. 

“ Come, come, cool down all of you, and 
tell me what this means,” he said, making 
himself heard above the clamor. “ Car’line, 
can you tell me what it means ? ” 

Car’line snorted. “ ’Deed I can’t. All I 
knows is, I was a-dustin’ in de liberry, an’ I 
hears a yell, an’ I runs up fas’ as I kin, an’ 
there’s that there baby a-wallerin’ in the 
watter. An’ I rech in an’ drug him out ! 
An’ that’s all I knows, an’ it’s more’n nuff fer 
me!” 

He turned to Beth Anne. 

“ Now then, Snippet, what is your tale? 
What were you up to? Not trying to make 
way with the infant, I hope ? ” he said, smil- 
ing encouragingly. “ Was it an act from a 
new play, or merely rehearsing for the tank 
scene in 1 The Sailor’s Return ’ ? ” 


322 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ I was only going to give him a bath and 
he went in, splash ! And then he cried.” 

“ But who is he? How did he get 
here ? ” 

“ Why, he’s my baby,” she said, perplexed 
at the question. “ I adopted him last night. 
You said I might.” 

“ Adopted him ! ” echoed Mr. Burton in 
amazement. “ You adopted him ! Great 
Csesar, what will you do next ! ” and he col- 
lapsed in helpless laughter on the shoe-box. 

“ But you said I might ! ” wailed Beth 
Anne. 

A light seemed to break in on him. “ Was 
that what you were asking through the key- 
hole?” 

She nodded. 

“ Oh, Snippet, you’re a wonder !” he cried, 
and went off into another peal. 

“ Where did you get him ? ” asked Mr. Bur- 
ton again. “ Who is he ? ” 

“ He’s a Seraphino,” replied Beth Anne, 
trembling. 


ADOPTING A BABY 323 

“ And what brand of cherub might that 
be? ” he laughed. 

Car’line snorted her disdain. “ One of them 
I-talians down on the back road ! I ’clare to 
goodness, ef she won’t be bringin’ in a horned 
rhinoscerosh nex’.” 

Mr. Burton put no more questions. He 
rose, saying to Beth Anne, “ Put the young 
man into his clothes, if he has any. And, 
after breakfast, we’ll see what is to -be done 
about it.” 

Beth Anne gathered her baby into her 
arms and went sadly to her room. ‘‘Nothing 
I ever do pleases people any more,” she 
thought sadly. “ I guess if Jinny’d done it 
they’d say it was right ! ” 

Half an hour later Pietro was playing con- 
tentedly on the dining-room floor, while his 
future was being discussed by the two at the 
table. 

“You will have to take him back, I am 
afraid, my dear Snippet,” Mr. Burton was 
saying, gravely. “ You are not of age, and so 


324 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

you cannot legally adopt a child. And you 
say you do not want me to adopt him V 1 

“ No,” she replied, quickly. “ I want him 
just all for myself. Oh, I did think it was 
all right this time !” she mourned. “I asked 
Mother, and I asked you. And yet it is all 
wrong. And I did want him so. I’m so 
lonely.” 

“ Do you know, Snippet,” he said, “ I feel 
pretty well cut up because you have got this 
bambino. It looks as though you didn’t care 
for the rest of us very much.” 

“ Oh, but I do. I do ! ” she protested, and 
even as she said it she was thinking that she 
wished Jinny would stay away forever, so that 
she and her father could be friends as they 
used to be. 

He went on, not heeding her, “ How would 
you like it, if you were busy for a while, and 
I went off and adopted a girl, just because I 
felt a little lonely ? ” 

The picture made her wiftce. “ I'd hate it ! ” 
she flared. “ I’d never speak to her J ” 


ADOPTING A BABY 325 

41 And how do I feel, to be cut out by a 
small Italian, just because I have to work 
overtime ? ” he asked, seriously. 

In a flash a new role presented itself to her 
— that of unselfish martyr. 

She saw herself the admired center of the 
household, unselfishly gay in loneliness and 
ministering to them in their work, and in the 
flash that it had taken to show her the picture, 
she had made up her mind. 

“ I’ll take him right back — as soon — as soon 
as I can,” she hesitated, for the thought of 
Mrs. Seraphino troubled her. 

“ We’ll make a bargain,” said her father. 
“ I will send him back by George with a ten 
dollar bill, and you shall promise never to 
adopt any one without notifying me three 
weeks in advance.” 

They shook hands gravely, and Beth Anne 
felt she was making a very businesslike 
compact. 

“ Has he any duds to go along ? ” asked Mr. 
Burton, as the old go-cart was taken out from 


326 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

its hiding place in the hall, and Pietro, still 
smiling, was tucked into it. 

Beth Anne squeezed the other dress and his 
old one into the bottom of the cart. “ Isn’t 
he lovely, though ! ” she cried, hugging him 
fervently. “ Oh, good-bye, good-bye, you 
darlingest. I hope they’ll take you back.” 

The fear that Pietro would not be welcomed 
lay heavy on her mind all day, and kept her 
from her usual visit to the house on the back 
road. When school was over she hurried 
straight home to find George. 

“ Was Mrs. Seraphino cross?” she asked 
breathlessly. 

“ ’Deed no, chile. She jest grab him lak she 
was wil’ fer him. An’ she say she never let any 
of her chilluns go ’way agin, not fer nothin’.” 

“ Then it’s all right,” said Beth Anne, draw- 
ing a long breath of relief. “I suppose I 
couldn’t have kept him anyway.” 

Iti was, nevertheless, two whole days before 
she Xpuld make up her mind to call on the 
SerapVinos. 


ADOPTING A BABY 327 

Car’line had given her a loaf cake as an 
additional peace offering, and she sped along 
with the cake in its clean napkin held care- 
fully before her. She burst into the little 
house without knocking, calling : 

“ Oh, Mrs. Seraphino ” 

But she got no further, for there was a 
chorus of terrified Italian, and she was quickly 
thrust out of the house. Some one was knock- 
ing loudly on the window, and she looked up 
to see Mrs. Seraphino, pointing to the front 
door. Following the direction of the shaking 
fingers, she saw at last the flaring yellow 
placard beside the door, and read, in large 
black letters at its top, “ Diphtheria ” ! 

Then she understood. They were under 
quarantine for diphtheria ! She made a fun- 
nel of her hands and shouted. 

“ Who is it ? ” she called. 

She could not make it out at first, but soon 
she got it. 

“ Giovanni and Pietro ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


KEPENTANCE 

It was three weeks later and Beth Anne, 
very white and shaky, was sitting up for the 
first time in the big chair by her window. 

“ Have we a yellow paper on our house ? ” 
she asked. 

The nurse smiled. “ Yes, indeed. Two of 
them,” she answered cheerfully. “ Don’t you 
feel very important, shutting up a whole 
household for a small person like you ? ” 

Beth Anne laughed feebly and then thought 
suddenly of Pietro. 

“ Did Giovanni get well ? ” she asked, feel- 
ing sure that she would hear about Pietro 

9 

too. 

“ Yes, he was out a week ago. He had a 
very light case,” the nurse replied, but said 
no word of Pietro, although Beth Anne 
waited a long time hopmg that she would. 

328 


REPENTANCE 329 

“ How is Pietro ? ” she asked at last. 

Miss Moffit laid a comforting hand on hers. 
“ Pietro will always be well now/' she said 
softly. 

Beth Anne felt her meaning, but her mind 
was weak and blurred by illness and she 
wanted a clearer answer. 

“ Is he — did he ? ” she began, but could 

not go on. 

“ Last week,” said Miss Moffit quietly. 
“ And Mrs. Seraphino wanted you to know 
that he had on your little dress when they 
took him away.” 

Beth Anne sobbed aloud. 

“ Oh, I don’t want him to be dead ! He’s 
too lovely ! ” she wept. “ Oh, why do people 
have to die ! ” 

Miss Moffit let her cry for a while and then 
she said, “ Your mother thought you might 
like to make up a little verse for him. How 
would you like to try now ? ” 

11 I’ll try,” said Beth Anne, sobbing less 
violently. 


330 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

When the paper and pencil were brought, 
after a long effort she could find nothing that 
satisfied her, and she sat idly watching the 
nurse arrange a big bunch of red roses in the 
vase on her table. 

Then after a time she began to write. She 
laid down the pencil as Miss Moffit brought 
the tea-tray. 

“ I can’t write poetry,” she said, sadly. “ It 
won’t come right.” 

Miss Moffit picked up the sheets. “ Mrs. 
Seraphino will be glad to know that you 
cared enough to write these verses,” she said 
cheerily. “ They may sound better to you 
if I read them aloud.” 

Beth Anne, intent on wafers and cambric 
tea, nodded tearfully. 

Miss Moffit looked it over and then read 
smoothly : 

‘‘The angel shepherds looked from heaven 
Down past the shining stars. 

1 Are all the little lambkins in 
Behind the golden bars ? 7 

/ 

$ 


REPENTANCE 


33i 


The oldest augel asked, and then 
The youngest answered him. 

* I see a lovely little one I’d like to go bring in. 
He’d make the dearest playmate for the little 
cherubim. 

His mouth is sweeter than a rose, his lips are 
very red, 

And he has a great many shiny curls upon his 
precious head.’ 

The oldest angel nodded and 
They both flew past the stars 
And gathered dear Pietro in 
Behind the golden bars.” 

“ Why, that's fine," said Miss Moffit warmly. 
“ 1 couldn't do half so well." 

“ It sounds queer to me," said Beth Anne, 
doubtfully, all her old self-confidence gone. 

“ I'll put it away till to-morrow " began 

Miss Moffit, when a clear call sounded from 
the garden. 

“Oh, there's Mother! May I stand up, 
please?" cried Beth Anne. 

When she was helped to her feet she saw 
below her the sunny garden and her father 
and mother standing, with cups held high in 
greeting. 


332 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

She waved her hand in response. “ Hur- 
rah ! ” she cried in her weak little voice. 
“ Hurrah, I'm well again ! ” 

“ Hurry up, Snippet,” called her father. 
“ We’re going to have the biggest sort of blow- 
out in the studio when you get down ! ” 

She sank back in the cushions, laughing 
with excitement. Then she remembered that 
there were but two figures in the garden, and 
a swift fear chilled her heart unexpectedly, 
washing out all the jealousy forever. 

“ W-where’s Jinny ? ” she asked. 

44 Over at Hammond’s, crying her eyes out 
for you,” replied Miss Moffit promptly. 

A great wave of love and tenderness swept 
over her. She had not known how dear 
Jinny really was to her till that chilling fear 
had told her. Shame at her selfish arrogance 
filled her painfully. 

“ When can I see her ? ” she asked soberly. 

“ After you are fumigated and well aired,” 
said Miss Moffit, as she left the room. 

Beth Anne settled back into her big chair 


REPENTANCE 


333 

and closed her eyes, and slowly, relentlessly, 
reviewed her days of foolish jealousy. 

She saw, in that clear mental vision of hers, 
in a long procession, the days before her ill- 
ness, — the days wherein her feud with Jinny 
had grown and prospered. Each as it passed 
turned its shadowy face upon her, and she 
read in each the ugly record of her own petty 
jealousy and selfishness. 

She saw the wall she had built up between 
herself and Jinny's love, and she knew that 
it was made of greed for praise, of self-impor- 
tance, and of foolish envy. 

“ I've been dreadfully nasty," she thought 
miserably. “ I wish I hadn't. Oh, I wish I 
hadn't! I wonder if Jinny still cares? I 
wish I knew if she had that old bunch of 
violets — she'd keep them if she cared. Oh, I 
wish I could ask her to forgive me — it was 
'cause I wanted to be first in everything, and 
to show off more than any one else." 

She lay weakly in her pillows. 

“ I want to get well quick," thought Beth 


334 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Anne dreamily, “ so lean find out if Jinny 
has the violets — and so I can show them all — 
Car’line, too — how much I love them.” 

And then she slipped off to sleep. 

The days that followed went merrily, for 
the strength came back to Beth Anne’s body 
in leaps and bounds. She got well, as she 
did everything else, with a vim, and although 
there were times when she cried from sheer 
fatigue and restlessness, she gained rapidly 
enough to satisfy even herself. 

“ I think it’s perfectly lovely to be fumi- 
gated,” she said, as the odorous vapors made 
them choke and gasp. “ For it shows I am 
really-for-truly well.” 

As soon as she was allowed out of her own 
room she ran swiftly in to Jinny’s room, open- 
ing the top drawer of the dresser, where she had 
so often seen the case that contained the faded 
violets which Jinny had prized so highly. 

“ Oh, if she’s only kept them, I’ll know 
she doesn’t hate me yet,” she whispered. 
“ And I’ll try to make up ” 


REPENTANCE 


335 

The sight of the familiar leather case be- 
side the prize copy of “ Treasure Island ” 
made her heart leap. 

“Oh, Jinny-pinny dearest!” she cried. 
“ You’re a really-for-truly friend, and I’m — 

I’m ” And then she broke down and 

laughed and cried in her weakness for a little, 
but soon the joy of recovering what had seemed 
irrevocably lost brought her to herself again. 

Jinny was coming back and they were to 
have tea in the garden, and not a minute was 
to be lost. She fluttered down to her mother 
waiting by the tea table and her face shone as 
she asked : 

“ When will Jinny come ? I’m perfectly, 
terribly crazy to see her ! ” 

A familiar laugh startled Beth Anne, and 
she turned to be clasped in Jinny’s eager arms, 
while Jinny poured out a flood of jubilation 
over Beth Anne’s recovery, and Beth Anne, 
clinging tightly to her recovered friend, bab- 
bled out her rapture and regret in one breath, 
asking forgiveness, and promising nothing but 


336 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

love and understanding comradeship for the 
future. 

“ I knew you loved me still when I saw the 
violets, Jinny dear/ 7 she faltered. “I just 
had to find out if they were there ” 

“ They're there, and they'll stay there till 
they're dust and ashes 1 ” cried Jinny ar- 
dently. “ We're friends forever and ever.” 

“ Forever and ever,” agreed Beth Anne sol- 
emnly. 

“ And I don't wonder you were angry,” she 
said. “ I told Marjorie I never wanted to see 
her again, after I found out how she had 
cheated about your code.” 

Beth Anne felt a bit afraid of the flash in 
Jinny's big eyes and she was glad that it was 
not meant for her. She kissed Jinny again, 
as she thought guiltily of how much she her- 
self deserved Jinny's anger. 

“ I was horrid, too. You don't know how 
horrid,” she confessed. “ I almost hated you 
because you seemed to like Marje best.” 

“ Why, Beth Anne Burton ! ” cried Jinny, 


REPENTANCE 


337 

with wide eyes. “ You couldn’t think that ! 
You knew I wanted to be with you ! Marje 
told me you were writing a new play, and that 
you wanted to act it out, and you’d like me 
better if I let you alone for a while.” 

Beth Anne couldn’t help laughing at her 
tone. “ Well, we’re all right now,” she said 
happily. Don’t let’s fuss about her any more, 
though.” 

“ She’s a horrid fibber,” said Jinny. 

“ Isn’t it funny,” said Beth Anne thought- 
fully, “ how things happen ? If I hadn’t been 
ill, I’d never known what a pig I was.” 

“ You’re not,” Jinny interrupted quickly. 
“I don’t like pigs, and I just adore you.” 

“ Hark I Father is calling,” said Beth Anne. 

“ He’s calling us both,” said Jinny, and they 
went down with their arms around each other 
to the hall. 

“ Come along to the studio and make plans,” 
said Mr. Burton. “ I must have that party 
before I start those big canvases for the City 
Hall, so we must get to work.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF AGAIN 

The studio party was promised for the last 
of the month, and great were the preparations 
for it. 

It had been decided that Mrs. Burton and 
Lucia, who was with them, were to be kept in 
ignorance of all the plans for it; and Mr. 
Burton, with Beth Anne, Jinny, Bess Ham- 
mond and the three boys, — Tom and Fred and 
Francie Drake, — was planning a great surprise 
for them. 

“You’ll never guess what it is,” exulted 
Jinny, after their first real practice in the 
studio. “ You couldn’t if you tried forever.” 

“ But you mustn’t try,” added Mr. Burton, 
gaily. “ For if you should by any chance 
find it out, it would be the death of us.” 

So the two ladies promised, laughing, not 
even to think of it till the eventful night 
338 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 339 

should come ; and they helped the girls keep 
the secret, for they did not ask a single ques- 
tion or take any notice of the many mysterious 
doings of the next two weeks. 

Beth Anne had a hard time of it in those 
two weeks, and it was only by putting a 
placard over her dressing-table with the legend 
Keep it Dark in big, black letters that she 
managed to get through without revealing the 
mighty secret. 

Packages came and were delivered at the 
studio. Mr. Burton spent much of his time 
there, and the painting he did was not on his 
own work, for the large canvases were not to 
be put in place till after the party. The boys 
and girls were working hard, too, and each 
time they met in the studio Beth Anne im- 
plored her mother and cousin to go calling or 
driving. 

“ So you won't hear us," she explained. 
“ We make so much noise you'd be sure to 
guess, and that would spoil it all." 

11 We’ll stuff cotton into our ears if it is too 


340 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

rainy to go out,” laughed Lucia. “ Or per- 
haps if we keep on the other side of the house 
and run the phonograph all the time, we may 
be safe enough.” 

“ Oh, if you only would !” cried Beth Anne 
eagerly. “ It would take such a load off my 
mind. I simply can’t keep still when we 
are at it ! ” 

At last the evening came and the secret 
was still a secret. The two girls were in Beth 
Anne’s room, dressing themselves as best they 
could for fingers that trembled with excite- 
ment. 

“ Oh, Jinny ! ” cried Beth Anne, 11 we must 
hurry ! ” 

She danced off, followed by Jinny, both of 
them cloaked and hooded past recognition. 

They slipped past the open door of Mrs. Bur- 
ton’s room, and sped swiftly to the studio door. 

Beth Anne stopped on the threshold. 

“ Oh I ” she cried, breathless at the beauty 
of it. “ Oh, isn’t it perfect ! ” 

The studio was a dream of autumn loveli- 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 341 

ness, with the yellow chrysanthemums and 
russet leaves adding their notes of color to 
the tapestried walls, and the twinkle of many 
lights sparkling and reflecting in its waxed 
floor till the whole place seemed to radiate 
with beauty. 

Mr. Burton, with Bess and the boys in 
attendance, was waiting for them. 

“ Just in time,” he said crisply. “ Step 
lively now.” 

Beth Anne and Jinny came in, and were 
quickly “ made up ” by Mr. Burton’s skilful 
touches into regular “ painted pictures,” as 
Jinny said. 

“ Doesn’t Tom look funny ? ” she said. “ I’d 
never have known him in that queer armor ! ” 

“ I think he looks fine ! ” declared Beth 
Anne stoutly. “ And so does Fred, and Bess 
is stunning ! ” 

“ Isn’t Francie just sweet ? ” added Jinny 
mischievously. 

Francie, glowering at this, began to speak, 
but Mr. Burton cut him short. 


342 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Come, come,” he said briskly, putting 
away the paints and powder. “ Fade away 
into oblivion, all of you. The people will be 
coming in soon, and you must be out of 
sight.” 

A great curtain stretched its ample folds 
across one whole side of the room and behind 
this they slipped just as a knock came on the 
door and Mrs. Burton’s voice called gaily : 

“ May we come in ? Or do we have to wait 
till every one else is here ? ” 

Beth Anne, peeping from a corner of the 
big curtain, caught her breath at the picture 
they made when the door swung open to 
them and they stood on the wide threshold. 

Mrs. Burton stood in shimmering white 
satin overlaid with spangles, jewels sparkling 
at her slender throat, and her bright hair 
crowned with a twinkling band of gems. 
Lucia, in her filmy blue and silver, made a 
fitting contrast to her loveliness, and Beth 
Anne squeezed Jinny’s hand hard at the sight 
of them. 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 343 

“ It’s going to be the gorgeousest thing we 
ever did,” she whispered. “ Aren’t you glad 
we kept it for a surprise ? ” 

The music started a low prelude, and the 
little group behind the big curtain grew more 
excited each moment. 

Beth Anne could not resist another whisper. 

“ I feel awfully queer, — like soda-water all 
over. How do you feel ? ” 

“ Sort of shaky,” replied Jinny, with a 
giggle. “ Feel sure I’ll go flop right in the 
middle of it.” 

Out in the audience Mrs. Burton and Lucia, 
from the second row of chairs, had been try- 
ing to guess what the big curtain was for. 

“ I think they are going to have some 
dances,” said Mrs. Burton, fanning herself 
with a tiny jeweled fan. “ I heard Ted tell 
Jinny to remember to keep perfect time.” 

“ I know Beth Anne has something to sing,” 
said Lucia, “ for she was practicing a new 
song when I was in the garden getting flowers 
for the table yesterday.” 


344 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Beth Anne once said Jinny was a fine 

dancer, but I never saw ” began Mrs. 

Burton, but she broke off to say with all the 
rest a very big round “ Oh ” as the heavy 
folds of the great curtain were pulled slowly 
apart, showing a small stage with a painted 
curtain and a row of scrubby juniper trees at 
its base. 

“ Why, it’s a stage,” piped a small voice at 
the back of the room, and there was a general 
laugh and a flutter of applause. 

Mr. Burton, who had been waiting in front 
of the painted curtain, stepped forward with 
a bow. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his eyes 
resting on Lucia and his wife as he spoke, 
“ we have with us to-night the celebrated 
actors of the Centerville Dramatic Club, in 
the sketch entitled, i The Little Brown Prin- 
cess/ The play is in three acts. The scene 
is laid in the Black Forest, and the time is an 
hundred years ago. The first act is in the 
cottage of the shepherd ; the second, in the 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 345 

castle of Kunda ; and the third and last in the 
palace of Hilda, the little brown princess." 

Mrs. Barton gasped. Here was a surprise 
indeed. 

Lucia, staring at the stage, whispered, “ It 
sounds like that story of Beth Anne's that we 
all thought so clever. But I don't suppose 
it could be. ,, 

The lights went down before Mrs. Burton 
found her voice, and they had to turn their 
whole attention to the play. 

The interior of the shepherd's cottage was 
carefully set. Bess, as the shepherd's wilful 
daughter, was seen sulkily sweeping the floor, 
and from the first words, “ Oh, dear, I certainly 
do hate to work," which she uttered in a 
peevish tone, the play was a success. When 
Fred, transformed by his wig and big mustache, 
came riding in on his steed in armor, — Pony 
Boy in silver paper trappings, — the applause 
stopped the play for at least two minutes. 

“ But where is Beth Anne ? ” whispered 
Lucia, as Jinny, in the part of the wicked 


346 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

Kunda, sparkled into view in the enchantress' 
castle where Tom, in chains that clanked 
horribly when he moved, was being conjured 
by the witch. 

“ She must be the little brown princess," 
Mrs. Burton whispered back. “ She’s so 
covered up I don’t know her. If she would 
only speak I’d know at once." 

“ She’ll have to soon,” said Lucia. “ If it’s 
like the story, she will drop her brown skin 
in Kunda’s castle, and will speak to Kunda." 

So they waited for the magic words that 
should restore the princess to her own shape 
and speech, but when Kunda, sprinkling her 
with incense, chanted the formula, and the 
disfiguring cover slipped to the floor, it was 
Bess again, and not Beth Anne, who stood 
before the enchantress. 

“ How strange for Beth Anne to let any one 
else have that part," commented Lucia. “ I 
don’t understand it." 

Mrs. Burton was silent. She had noted 
the change that had come to Beth Anne in 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 347 

her illness, and she was rejoicing in the hope 
that Beth Anne, in her old generous fashion, 
should have chosen to let the others have the 
first place. 

She applauded Jinny’s clever dances, Bess’s 
bright speeches, but when at last Beth Anne, 
in the small part of the poor village child, 
came on for her short speech and song, she 
clapped till her gloves split and the tears of 
gladness stood in her eyes. 

“ My dear, unselfish girlie has come back,” 
she murmured happily to herself. “ And that 
is the very best surprise of all.” 

Beth Anne had spent most of her time dur- 
ing the progress of the play in the wings. 
Her small part called her on only in the last 
act, when she had but a line or so to say and 
a little verse to sing. 

She stood watching the others go through 
their parts with a great joy growing in her 
heart. The little, halting play that she had 
been at first so proud of, and then had been 
so deeply discouraged over, — the play that 


348 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

she had revised again and again in the last 
few weeks under her father’s patient direc- 
tion, seemed so real, so living, when she 
heard its sentences spoken, that she forgot to 
be proud of her own share in it. 

“ It’s really all his helping and the way 
they are doing it so well that makes it any 
good at all,” she said, as the curtain went 
down on the castle scene. “ I almost thought 
I wrote it myself, but now I know they all 
did as much as I did.” 

When it was her turn to go on, she said her 
short lines so naturally and with such vigor 
that a laugh followed each sentence. In the 
song about the fairies, her voice rang clear 
and sweet, vibrating with a gladness that 
Carried the audience to its highest pitch of 
applause. 

They clapped again and again, and when 
Beth Anne, in response to a nod from her fa- 
ther to repeat the song, shook her head, it 
was some time before she could be heard. 

She came down to the footlights, very much 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 349 

in earnest, and forgetting herself in her in- 
terest in the play as it should be rendered. 

“ I can’t sing it again, you know,” she re- 
monstrated, “ for it isn’t that way in the 
play,” and she bobbed a quick curtsy and 
went off, not knowing that, in so forgetting 
herself, she had gained the hearts of her 
audience. 

Ding ! Ding ! Down went the curtain at last. 

Then there were more clappings and calls 
for the performers, and, when the six stood 
before the painted curtain bowing in the way 
Mr. Burton had taught them, Fred made 
Beth Anne gasp by saying in a loud voice : 

“ If you like it so much, you’d better ask 
who wrote it.” 

At that Mrs. Drake, who was in the second 
row, called out, “ Author ! Author 1 ” and 
the rest of the audience joined in. 

Beth Anne was pushed forward by the 
others. She was conscious of a blur before 
her eyes and a mad thumping at her heart, as 
the applause pounded in her ears. 


350 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

“ Say something, Snippet,” urged her 
father. “ They are waiting.” 

There was a little silence and then she spoke. 

“ I did write the play,” she said, simply. 
“ But Father helped me put it into acts. And 
he made me write it over three times. And 
Bess and Jinny and the boys helped, too. 
They said things that showed me how to do 
it. So I guess I’m not so much of an author 
after all. If they hadn’t acted it so well, it 
might have been a fizzle, anyway.” 

Mrs. Burton came behind the scenes to look 
for Beth Anne, and took her happy face be- 
tween her hands. 

“ Were you surprised, Mother? Did you 
guess it would be anything like that?” Beth 
Anne asked, bubbling with joy. 

“ The play was fine, and the actors did 
splendidly ! ” said Mrs. Burton warmly. 
“ But the best of all for me was your nice 
speech at the end, for I’d rather have you 
generous than famous.” 

Beth Anne looked her wonder. “ Why, it 


BETH ANNE IS HERSELF 351 

was only the truth. I couldn’t have done it 
by myself, really-for-truly I couldn’t.” 

Mrs. Burton was thinking that she would 
not have seen it in that light a few weeks ago, 
but she only patted her hand, saying : 

“ Jinny danced wonderfully, didn’t she? I 
never knew she could do it.” 

“ Isn’t she lovely, Mother dear ? I wish 
she could stay with us for always. There’s 
nobody like her, — not even Bess ! ” 

“ Perhaps ” began Mrs. Burton, when 

the music burst out, and Mr. Burton ap- 
peared. 

“ Come, come ! You two can’t bill and coo 
all the evening. The dancing is beginning. 
May I have the pleasure of the first waltz, 
Miss Burton ? ” 

Beth Anne giggled at the imposing name. 
“ Wait till I get my program,” she said, dart- 
ing off for it. 

After the dancing was over and refresh- 
ments had been served, and the last guest had 
taken his departure, the family still lin- 


352 BETH ANNE HERSELF 

gered in the studio, loth to leave its fading 
beauty. 

Beth Anne flung her arms about Jinny. 

“ Oh, Jinny-pinny ! 99 she cried. “ Isn’t it 
lovely to be here ! ” 

“ And to be well ! 99 said Jinny, kissing her. 
“ And to have good friends to applaud 
one ! ” laughed Mr. Burton. 

“ And not to be a pig about things ! 99 said 
Beth Anne, with an earnestness that made 
them laugh, but her mother understood. 

“ That is the whole of it,” she said gently. 
“ It is loving-kindness that makes it all worth 
while.” 

Beth Anne’s eyes grew dreamy. 

“ The tree grew straight,” she said, and 
once again her mother understood. 











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